


Light Through the Darkness

by PastPresentFiction



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 62,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22660897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastPresentFiction/pseuds/PastPresentFiction
Summary: Abigail Morgan was the last remaining member of a Founding Family. When her parents and entire household seemed to be wiped out in a horrible fire, her parents' closest friends took her in as a daughter. Being raised with Damon and Stefan Salvatore was an interesting childhood, but becoming an adult was becoming darker and darker.
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is another story playing within the same pool, The Vampire Diaries, yet with a new lead. Abigail Morgan will mirror Jessa Warren in some aspects, but this story isn't really a love story. There are elements of unrequited love, and definitely angst from finding out that in the end you may only be able to count on yourself. 
> 
> Her origin is different. Her powers strange. And yet, she makes the same mistake of falling for a Salvatore. In the end, finding how her family came to be, and came to an end will take the forefront. And just wait to see where that leads. 
> 
> Readers and reviews are most welcome. Just please respect the creative process that goes into original characters, even if they are playing with your favorites.

Mystic Falls, VA August 1, 1864

My dearest headstrong, annoyingly wrong, yet most missed best friend,

I know that you felt that joining this cursed cause would somehow gain you your father's approval. A cause you don't share, by the way, and yet it hasn't even helped your own cause.

It has, however, given me more darkness. Always lurking at the corners of my mind, since my parents' deaths, since your mother's passing. Now it's coming ever closer, Damon, and I fear so deeply for your safety. Not only because of where you are, in the midst of this infernal war, but something even more dangerous is coming. And I sit here, in your childhood home, impotent to keep you safe or from warning you of the danger.

I could also whine about the fact that the Founders' council is planning on celebrating the founding of our dear town, with frivolity and a party, of all things, while danger lurks all around. And while, if I'm being honest, I yearn to have you, my calming influence near me.

Come home, Damon. Be near, where I can be sure that you are safe, even if I cannot keep you that way.

Your best, if selfish, friend,

Abigail

Abigail looked around her room in the Salvatore mansion. Her room since she'd come to live with the family at the tender age of thirteen. She rarely thought back to the time before, it hurt too much. Moving forward, that was easier and something she'd promised herself after she'd come to live with the Salvatores.

For the first time in five years she allowed the memories to rush back. The night of the fire all consuming, taking everything from her. Her parents. She had tried so hard to not think of them.

Mama, so severe in how she'd trained Abigail to act and think. Teaching the young girl to speak only when spoken to and how to address each person in her world. How to run a household, even at such an early age, she'd known what a household of the size of the Salvatores would need to be run daily. How to keep servants or slaves in line, her family had servants, the Salvatores slaves. All of those teachings had stayed with Abigail, and she'd come to utilize them since that day, wondering how her mother had known that they would be needed so soon.

Papa, as sensitive and calming as her mother had been restrictive. He'd taken her education in a different direction. He taught her to read literature, and escapism through books. The library in their house became her favorite room. A room to escape into and hide from her Mama's lectures on place sittings and party planning. She didn't mind some of the things she was being taught, but the hammering on about her destiny as a rich man's wife was a bit exhausting. Papa was more agreeable.

Abigail remembered the first time she was introduced to Damon's family. She was five years old, and her Mama was fretting about whether it was still too soon for their little one to meet their closest friends. Even though she drilled the well bred basics into Abigail's tiny precious head, what if "little pitchers have big ears", she heard her mama whisper to her papa, not totally understanding, but later looking up the quote. She knew it meant that she could have overheard something untoward, but try as she might, she couldn't think of anything she would have shared with the Salvatores that might have embarrassed her parents.

Abigail recalled arriving at the Salvatore house, slightly larger than the home she shared with her parents, but as her mama reminded her, they were currently building a new larger home some distance away. Abigail was presented to Lily first, and remembered Damon's mother, so different from her own, smiling and happy to meet the smaller version of her best friend. She'd taken Abigail's childish hand in hers and pulled her gently from the shy shell she carried herself in. She then presented her to her sons, Damon the eldest at twelve stood tall with dark full-bodied hair and the bluest eyes that Abigail had ever seen. Then Stefan, five years old, with darker eyes and a swoosh of dark hair. Both boys took in the tiny girl that stood before them in the care of their mother, and before any of the adults could take stock, Damon spoke.

"You must be Abigail." He stooped down to her level. "I feel that we're going to be the best of friends, Princess Abi." Pulling her into his arms, he looked at the shocked face of his mother and the others, none more than his own father. "Shall I show Abi the grounds while the adults prepare for lunch? I promise I will make sure she is well taken care of."

Lily smiled at her eldest and nodding her assent. "Take Stefan with you, Damon." Damon shrugged his agreement and his brother jumped along after.

"That was unexpected." Madeline Morgan, Abigail's mother said, watching with shrewd eyes as the eldest Salvatore held her small daughter in his arms as he walked through the garden and showed her varying flowers and made her laugh.

Giuseppe Salvatore gave an undignified snort of agreement. Eric Morgan, Abigail's father looked on the two children approvingly. His light green eyes, so like his daughter's never left the two, taking note of each step that the older boy took with the precious bundle he held so carefully in his arms. "I think that Damon is the perfect companion for Abigail." The usually taciturn gentleman stated, startling the other three adults. "He seems to be quite taken with my angel, and so we can focus on our afternoon, shall we?"

That settled the matter, and the four adults moved inside to the solarium that had been set up for a late lunch. As they sat to discuss matters that the children would have found terribly boring, the three children were exploring the gardens of the Salvatore home. Damon handling Abi Morgan with incredible care, because while she was the same age as his brother, she was much more petite.

Abigail smiled at the memory, one that wasn't tainted with the terrible memory of loss that came later. She recalled the stories that Damon had made up about the flowers and the fairies that lived in each bush and posy. How he kept her occupied for an entire afternoon, while Stefan had listened carefully to the stories, asking questions of his own, and how surprised the little boy was that his older brother answered his questions with just as much patience as he was giving this new little girl. It had been the beginning of a friendship that had stood the tragic test of time.

For remembering that day forced to the surface a night five years later, a night that had risen like the smoke that had choked her awake. Sallie's scream, even in the echo of memory, could still pierce her heart. They were gone, everyone, except Sallie and herself. Her mama, her papa, and every single servant that she'd grown up to know. Dead, burned alive in the home that she knew as she knew her own body. No one could tell her how it had started, since it was summer when the fire happened. Even the summer kitchen fire was kept at a low burn during summer. And her papa was hesitant to even allow lamps burning after dark, during the winter months. So how was this fire even possible?

She struggled to recall the darkness that she'd felt hovering before that night. She'd known it was coming. She even remembered having the conversation with Papa the days leading up to it. Sitting in the library, having gone nights without sleep, seeing his worry and having to come clean about the fear. Watching him keep something from her, but not knowing what, all the while feeling like she couldn't stop the darkness from overtaking her.

She'd been thirteen years old when her world had changed irrevocably. She remembered waking, the house fully engulfed, and her lying on the wet grass in the front lawn. Sallie sat screaming beside her. How did they get there? Sallie couldn't give her an accurate accounting on their evacuation. Then, Lily and Giuseppe Salvatore were there, he lifted her as though she weighed nothing, and Sallie was told to follow them home. Home. A morbid joke, surely. Since her home was slowly, but surely becoming a smoldering ruin.

A day later, she'd been drawn back to where her home had once stood. Nothing was left. Truly nothing. The town's founders had decided that leaving any piece behind would make people attempt to seek souvenirs or something morbid or grotesque. They took a vote and hired workmen to erase the ruins to assure nothing was left. Abigail was torn. Was it better to leave behind no monument to her past, or was it worse that no one would remember her parents? That's when Lily reminded her of the new home her family had commissioned. Her heart clenched, that wasn't the same, not really. They'd planned it, yes, but it wasn't home.

The dreams started right after. Every single night she'd fall asleep, exhausted from grief, and the dream would start. She'd be walking straight toward home. Through the overgrowth of grass toward where her home should be standing. She was searching, forever searching, but for what? She couldn't tell. All she knew was that she needed to find it. If only she knew what it was. And she really wished she knew what she needed to find, mostly because the dream was boring. Over and over it ran. The only time the dream would stop, would be if the darkness took away her sleep. So she could be tortured with the same repetitive, obsessive dream, or insomnia.

Since she was torturing herself with memories, after losing her family, she did gain a new one. Damon's family. Although, if she were being honest with herself, she truly only gained two members. She gained Lily and Damon. Stefan and Giuseppe Salvatore kept to themselves. They were more or less a family unto themselves. Lily and Damon never seemed to meet Mr. Salvatore's full approval, at least in private. Abigail, as a ward, never felt the need to push herself forward.

After her parents' funeral, a formality, the fire burned so hot that no bodies were ever found. Abigail Morgan became Lily's daughter, perhaps in name only, but the Morgans had left a stipulation in their will that should anything occur to them before her majority, then the Salvatores being their closest confidants would be her guardians. Her financial security would be in their hands only until her fifteenth year, at which time, Abigail would be given full reign over her own lands and funds, which were more than substantial. There was much more to the will, she was informed by Giuseppe, but he allowed that at thirteen years old, she would be given more information as she grew more mature.

Abigail had two full years with the Salvatores before another wave of darkness started gathering. She saw this one coming sooner, however, even without the internal signs. Her adopted mother. Warmer, perhaps than her biological one, was dying. Tuberculosis. As she sat at her bedside, nursing her as best she could at fifteen years old, begging Lily's cold-hearted husband to allow her to die at home, she knew that once again she was going to have to bury a parent.

"Please, Mr. Salvatore, don't send her away?" Abigail begged, tears streaming down her face. "I'll stay with her, I'll take care of her." She promised, knowing that she wouldn't be able to sleep for as long as the dark cloud hovered anyway. "She could stay and I could keep her comfortable while she's here." She knew that he understood she meant 'here' as 'alive'.

"Abigail," he was worn down, even though he wasn't visiting his wife, knowing she was dying under his roof was tiring him as well as the rest of them. He couldn't allow this young woman, the ward left in his care to undertake this, no matter how much she wanted to. "She has to go to the sanatorium. It's where she needs to be. Even Lily understands that. You have to let her go, you have to rest. When is the last time you've slept?"

She could hear the worry and fear in his voice, but she just couldn't allow it to matter. "I'll sleep when she's comfortable, Mr. Salvatore. Let me do this for her? Please?" She was pleading, she knew that it sounded weak, and she didn't care. Showing fear to bullies was always a terrible idea, but she would give this bully anything to make sure that her adopted mother wasn't alone when she died. "If she must go, let me go with her?"

She didn't hear Damon approach, which was strange because they were always so in tune with each other. It was a family joke that where there was one, there was the other. Mr. Salvatore nodded at his older son, the first time that they'd ever been on the same page. Abigail felt Damon's hand touch her shoulder. She turned and saw his blue eyes lock onto hers.

"You can't go with Mother, Abi." He answered her with a firmness she'd never heard him use before. "She wouldn't want you to and you know that."

Abigail felt the burning of fresh hot tears, she looked down at Lily's face. Her mother figure hadn't spoken for hours, the heat of fever had taken her voice and the coughing had taken the rest. She didn't want to lose her. Not another loss, not again. She knew it was selfish, but she wanted to keep her here, tethered to the earth and to her.

"She would want you to stay with us, with me." He whispered, pulling her into his embrace. His voice was a whisper in her hair that had come partially out of the clasp that kept it out of her face. "She wouldn't want you to keep losing sleep and she wouldn't want you fretting. You know all this, Abi."

As Damon stood whispering to Abigail, Giuseppe had the the orderlies from the sanatorium enter and remove his wife. His eyes were tight, for though he had many faults Lily was still the woman he'd married and who made him a father. He watched as his oldest son comforted the wealthy young woman who was in his care, and wondered just what he was going to have to do to keep everything in line with Abigail Morgan.

Lily's funeral was just one more dark cloud that had broken around Abigail Morgan's head. It was why she knew that something bad was coming. Why she wasn't sleeping and why she wasn't eating. She knew that Giuseppe Salvatore had taken notice. He wasn't as astute as her own papa had been, but he was slowly coming to take notice of what was common to her moods and odd shifts.

Now she had a choice. Did she attempt to get the letter to Damon? Would it help or hurt anything? She contemplated the options. Then contemplated again. No, it was selfish. Besides, it wasn't as though she could stop the darkness. Warning him against the fact that he was probably in danger during wartime wasn't really all that helpful. Abigail balled the letter up and tossed it in the unlit fireplace.

As she walked away, unnoticed by Abigail, the letter burst into green flames.


	2. Chapter 2

Mystic Falls, VA August 2, 1864

As Abi came down the stairs of the Salvatore mansion, she contemplated what she should do first. Should she check to be sure the servants were taking care of the daily duties that were deemed her responsibility upon Lily's death? Or should she play hooky, and go shopping? Feeling a bit mischievous, in spite of the hovering darkness, she chose the latter.

She walked resolutely toward Giuseppe's office, certain he was holding court as the man of the house so often did at this time of the day. It would do no good to just disappear. She had to ask permission, rather than beg forgiveness, at least in this case. She was finally of age to have access to her fortune, and it was quite a pile of money. Her lands as well, the house her parents had commissioned, huge and obscene in its opulence was impressive. Unfortunately, her guardian had deemed her too young to live alone, just yet. Eyes rolling, at this disparaging ruling, given she was acting as the lady of his house, she continued to have an audience with the man of the house.

Turning the last corner, she walked in as the door was open, without knocking. Since the door wasn't shut, she felt there was no need for formalities. She didn't realize Stefan was inside until she crossed the threshold. And started speaking. Damn.

"Mr. Salvatore," Abigail started, before coming up short. Stopping abruptly.

Looking up from his grandiose position at his desk, he didn't mask his surprise at her appearance. Usually Abigail announced herself, with a knock, or a scheduled visit. Here she was, however, looking as shocked with herself as he was with her appearance.

"I apologize," she said, her breeding coming easily. "I should have knocked." She felt a blush rise to her cheeks.

"There isn't a need, Abigail." Mr. Salvatore answered smoothly. "Is there something you need?"

"No, I just wanted to ask if I could go to town," she said, smiling through her embarrassment. "I thought I'd go shopping. Perhaps for a gown for the Founders' Party." She felt her eyes drift to her feet. Stefan was watching her, she could feel his eyes, and she realized over the past ten years they'd never really gotten to know each other.

Mr. Salvatore was smiling when she looked up. "Of course, Abigail." She smiled in return. "I do ask that you take someone along. Stefan, please accompany her." Her smile was lost. "Don't look so downtrodden, my dear. There have been some attacks along the roads as of late. We can't have anyone travelling alone." Abigail looked concerned, she hadn't heard about the attacks. Perhaps this was the cause of the darkness.

"Not to worry, Abigail," Stefan said, from her side. "I'll keep you safe." The words were an echo of the brother she missed so dearly, from a time gone by. "And Father, I'll take the carriage. That way we won't be at the mercy of a slow pace." Mr. Salvatore shook his head in assent.

Abigail agreed and went to fetch her hat and gloves. She wondered about the attacks, wondering what was the cause. When were they happening and where?

As she came back down the stairs, she could hear the two Salvatore men talking. Snippets came to her, and she tried desperately to make sense of what she was hearing.

"Try to get to know-"

"What if she doesn't-"

"It doesn't matter what the feelings are, but if that could change-"

Shaking off the feeling that she was a pawn in some type of game, and unwilling to try making sense of it, Abigail called out that she was ready. Stefan appeared from Mr. Salvatore's office followed by his father. They smiled at her in what she imagined that they thought was reassuringly, she smiled back.

"I've asked that the carriage be brought around," Stefan said. He held out his arm, and Abigail took it.

It felt wrong. Completely wrong. She didn't know him. It didn't matter that they had lived in the same house for five years, or that they'd played among the same fields for ten years. She didn't know him and he knew nothing about her. She shook it off, again, and tried to push away the darkness. She knew that the exhaustion was gaining. Eventually it would fall like a curtain and she'd pass out. Then she'd have dreams that wouldn't be like the obsessive torturous ones of the ruins, instead they'd be the ones that held her hostage and warned her of dangers that she couldn't stop and that would bring death and destruction.

Touching Stefan, while wrong, made her wonder about Damon. Where was he? Was he as terrified as she was about him? Had he been hurt? She'd heard all manner of horror about how men were having limbs amputated. Nightmares about war that tortured her when she tried to help by volunteering with the wives of the Founders' council. She gave up, hearing them contemplate what soldiers might be going through made her want to vomit, and didn't make her want to aid the Confederacy or the Union.

She didn't cringe when Stefan handed her up into the carriage. She carefully arranged her skirts, and sat back into the shade of the buggy's bonnet. Abigail waited to see what type of conversation Stefan attempted. She had to admit that she was curious. Damon had been gone for a few months now, and he hadn't attempted yet. She wondered what was changing.

As the horses lurched forward, the silence stretched. Perhaps she was wrong, she was thinking. Then, as the first turn in the road appeared, Stefan's posture changed slightly. A minor shift, most people might not have noticed, but Abigail noticed things. Especially since she had lived with the Salvatores through the light and darkness.

"Abigail," Stefan opened the conversation. "I know that you and I haven't exactly been close." She had to still herself from having a chuckle. That was a massive understatement. "I hope that we can change that." His voice was measured. The lightness of it well leveled with just a hint of hope. She wondered when Stefan became such a good liar.

"What brought this interest on, Stefan?" She asked, allowing her curiosity to lay heavy on her tone. "I've lived in the same home as you for five years, and you've never once shown any inkling to want to know me. Why now?" She leveled a look his way, as he kept his eyes on the lane and the horses. She watched as his eyes hardened, he was thinking hard on her question. How was he going to answer.

"My father told me something today." He said, turning his head to look at her. His eyes, dark the day they'd met, looked almost green today. "He said that you and I are meant to be married." He stopped talking and allowed the silence to again stretch between them. Breaking their eye contact, he turned back to watch the lane and horses.

Abigail turned to face their progress as well. Marry Stefan? The brother she barely knew? Her heart felt like it stopped beating. She knew, from the time she was very young, that she'd be married one day. She also knew that she'd be a rich man's wife. But, marrying Stefan Salvatore? This was madness. Was this the darkness? The danger? Because deep down, she knew that Stefan Salvatore was in truth his father's son. And that meant that her life would mirror Lily's. She would live the same life. The same, unfulfilled, unhappy, life. She felt the first tear fall. And turned her head so he would never see another.


	3. Chapter 3

Mystic Falls, VA August 2, 1864

The shopping trip wasn't enjoyable for Abigail. She continued it, attempting to push the darkness away, and putting up a wall around this new knowledge about what the future held for Stefan and herself. She held his arm and allowed him to play gentleman with her around the shops of Mystic Falls. She wandered the stores, looking for all intents and purposes as a young lady looking for a proper gown for the Founder's Party.

Stefan played his part particularly well. Had Abigail not known that their parts had been chosen by his father, and not by Stefan himself, she may have been taken in by his charm. She smiled in response, she played her part as well as he did his. She knew the town would talk. As she was certain Mr. Salvatore intended.

By the late afternoon, Abigail found what would suffice for a suitable gown. It was midnight blue with black beading and with her fair coloring it would be stunning. The shopkeeper assured her that it would be perfect, as shopkeepers do, and she already had the perfect shoes. She found something for her hair, and gloves, and they were ready to go home.

Once again, she allowed Stefan to help her into the carriage and she settled into the seat. She'd hoped for a silent return trip, but Stefan had other ideas.

"Abigail." He started, yet again simply.

She gave a small sound of assent for him to continue. "I know that what I spoke about earlier took you by surprise." He said, once again with the understatements. "I need you to know, I want our union to be a happy one." He was looking at her, she could feel it.

Abigail considered his words and felt that he wanted to mean what he said. She met his eyes. He looked sincere. She sighed. "Stefan, it's still an arranged marriage. We don't know each other." She felt her mouth droop. "I don't know when we're supposed to marry, but we're strangers."

Stefan pulled the horses' leads into one hand and took her hand in his empty hand. "Then we get to know each other. I mean it, Abigail. I don't want you to be miserable. I want you to know that I want you to be happy with me." His thumb was rubbing the softness of her hand. "I'd never want you to hate me."

Abigail stared at Stefan, wondering if she was believing him because he was being honest or because she wanted him to be. She realized that she had to believe him. This was her future. He was her future. She nodded. Damon, her best friend was going to be her brother, and that thought made her heart clench in the most uncomfortable way imaginable. Another painful tear fell from the corner of her eye. This time she let Stefan see it. He needed to know that this hurt.

"Don't worry, Abigail, we'll figure this out." Stefan said, sounding more sure than she felt. "I know that Father can be a little frightening, but he has our best interest at heart."

And that's when she knew. Giuseppe Salvatore had planned out her future. Who and where and how. And Abigail had just agreed to it.


	4. Chapter 4

Mystic Falls, VA August 14, 1864

The entire town was gossiping. Stefan Salvatore and Abigail Morgan were engaged. At least that was what Sallie had heard. She'd rushed to Abigail's room after being accompanied to town for market day, and had to tell her everything that she'd heard. Abigail knew that the word would spread. Even though Mr. Salvatore hadn't sat down and discussed it with her, hadn't had the discussion about the full will of her parents, she had known that gossip about Stefan and Abigail would get out.

She looked at Sallie and wondered when the woman would grow up. Sallie could be dependable, but she could also be a bit vapid. Such was today. She was going on and on about Mrs. Lockwood's girl Millie and how everyone was talking about a spring wedding. Abigail was thinking about the fact that she was barely seventeen years old, and hardly ready to be a wife. Then she realized that come December 21 she'd be eighteen. Stefan's birthday was in November, could she put off her guardian for another year then?

Abigail looked at her maid and realized that Sallie was actually glowing. She was excited. She focused on the woman and realized that her excitement was two fold. Firstly she was happy that Abigail was going to be married, meaning that she'd have a wedding and the gown, party, and all that hoopla it entailed. Secondly, Sallie wanted out of the Salvatore house. She hated it here. This realization came to Abigail in a flash. Sallie's hatred came from the fact that Mr. Salvatore was a little too attentive to Abigail's maid. Abigail felt horrible that she'd never noticed. She should have protected the woman, she was her responsibility after all. Marrying Stefan meant that Abigail would finally move to her own home, getting Sallie out of this house, to safety.

That solidified her choice a little more. She had to marry Stefan. It would give Sallie piece of mind. The woman probably saved Abigail from a fire, after all. If Abi could return that favor, saving her from the unwanted affections of her future father-in-law, then she would. In the meantime, she would work harder to find reasons to keep Sallie by her side. She felt sick to think that Sallie had suffered for her place in the house.

Abigail kept up appearances, even though her insomnia kept growing. She was exhausted, but she felt she was hiding it well. Her appetite wasn't well hidden, though. Everyone noticed that she wasn't eating. Her only intake seemed to be a few cups of tea, here and there. Mr. Salvatore agreed to allow her maid to stay with her full time as her companion. Sallie watched her like a hawk.

Sallie was terrified. Even though she'd known young Miss Morgan since she was a baby, she'd never seen her this tired. She knew about the bouts of "darkness growing". She even knew about Abigail's intuition, that bordered on supernatural ability. Abigail was fighting an exhaustion that was becoming far beyond anything even she'd ever fought. She wasn't eating or sleeping, and only a few cups of tea was keeping her going. The motions of living were all that her mistress was managing. Even the master of the house, who Sallie was desperate to stay clear of was too distracted by Abigail's state to attempt to take advantage of the maid. He asked Sallie to keep an eye on Abigail, and try anything to get her to sleep or eat.

"Please, Miss Morgan, just a little bit of chicken?" Sallie asked, trying to tempt her mistress with some cold chicken one a bed of salad greens beside a cup of her favorite tea. She felt like she'd been pleading with her for days, and maybe she had.

"I'm not hungry, Sallie." Abigail answered, her eyes looking fevered to the maid. "I'll just have my tea, thank you." She picked up the dainty cup and took a small sip. "That's better." She sighed and picked up the book she'd been reading when the maid had entered the room. She knew they were worried, but sooner or later the exhaustion would break, it always did. She was just in a holding pattern. "I'll be fine, Sallie, please stop worrying." She smiled at the woman who had been with her since birth. "You know that as soon as this weird holding pattern breaks, I'll pass out. It'll be fine." She waved her hand dismissively. "As soon as this weird dark cloud that keeps hovering lowers, we can get back to normal." She said as though that would be better.

Even though she hadn't eaten in too long, and though she hadn't slept in more nights than they could all count, Abigail didn't look much different from other days. She hadn't lost weight. Her physical appearance had not changed. Her eyes were the only place that looked at all different. Fevered, perhaps, tortured mostly by the lurking darkness. It frightened her that the darkness was still unknown. That is wasn't defined, that it hadn't made itself known. It held her hostage, and that alone was causing the most distress.

No one knew how to help her. Not Mr. Salvatore. Not Stefan. Not Sallie. Possibly they all considered Damon, but he was lost to them currently, trapped in the conflict of war, and even if they could get to him, when would he be able to get to her? Would it be in time? She wasn't technically being harmed, it was just painful to watch her not rest and not eat. No one could calm her. If she felt impotent against the darkness, they all felt impotent against helping her fight against it.

Mystic Falls, VA August 18, 1864

Dear Brother,

I know that I haven't written as much to you as I should have, my dear brother, but I didn't know what I should write. I know, as you do, that you shouldn't be fighting. We don't agree with the Confederacy, Damon. We don't agree with killing people who don't agree with us, so why would you want to kill people who agree with us?

I'm sorry, brother, I didn't write to goad you into an argument. I didn't write to start an argument. I wrote because we need you at home. Actually I wrote because SHE needs you at home. Abigail needs you. She hasn't slept for weeks, I wish I could give you a better assessment of the days, but I am not as good of a friend to her as you are, I fear. She isn't eating. We have Sallie watching her almost twenty four hours a day, but even with that, she doesn't eat, she doesn't sleep, and barely drinks. A few sips of tea, and that's all.

Father and I both are terrified. Her lack of sleep is normal, but never has it gone on this long without some respite. Nothing helps. She tells us only that the darkness is hovering, coming ever closer, but never dropping. She's terrified that it means something is going to harm you, brother. That she cannot help you, and she swears she feels powerless. As do we in helping her. And so, I ask you, brother, to come home. Help her. Bring her back to us. Help her rest, help her be calm.

Please, brother, we need you.

Stefan.

Stefan sent the letter with the fastest courier he could find. His only hope was to bring his brother home. He hadn't asked his father. He dare not. Damon was needed home. Abigail needed him and he was trying to make her happy. If it took bringing his older brother home to make her happy enough to allow him time to get to know him and put them on the right path for their marriage to move forward, then he'd make it happen.

He wanted their union to work. He remembered his mother, Lily and her unhappiness with his father. He didn't want his own marriage to be a repeat. And so, he wanted to try to become friends with Abigail. If Damon was a pathway to that happiness, then he'd use him to make it happen.

Abigail sat in her room. The darkness was crowding her. She could feel it, manifesting itself into every nook and cranny. She wanted to claw at it and make it take shape, force it to tell her what horrible tragedy it was going to portend. She couldn't do it, she was so tired. She knew that everyone was worried about her.

Mr. Salvatore was considering options. She wasn't scaring him enough for him to consider having a doctor, thankfully. He was thinking that she may need a change of scenery. She wondered if she could talk him into allowing her to move into her own house. Perhaps Sallie would like to get started on setting up the house, and getting away from his advances early would put her in even better spirits. It was probably outside the realm of possibilities. He'd raise the issue of her age, and then shoot it down.

Sighing, she got out of the bed that she allowed herself to be put in every night. It was a futile attempt. No sleep came. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, praying for even the boring dream of searching for whatever she was usually trying to search for at the ruins of her old house, but nothing came. Instead, she would sit up and read. Her mind would wander, the darkness would only manifest fear. Fear that would give faint worry.

Damon dodging bullets and other shadowy soldier forms. Damon scared of death in dirty vague locations. Smoky places, with Damon crying, fear swallowing him whole.

It wasn't always Damon though. Sometimes the darkness enveloped the entire town of Mystic Falls. Those attacks she hadn't heard about before she now heard about through the darkness. She'd see vague shapes of people, walking through the darkness the regular type with moonlight, then being ripped apart by shadows. The blood splattering over the entire roadside, red everywhere, bright and garish against the darkness. No one was safe, and yet no one seemed to be aware that there was anything to fear.


	5. Chapter 5

August 30, 1864

Damon reread Stefan's letter. Abi was having a difficult time and he was needed at home. He knew joining this "conflict" was a stupid idea. He knew it as soon as he'd done it. When he'd told Abi, when he'd looked in her pale green eyes and seen them fill with tears, he wished he could take it back. Anything she wanted, anything she needed, he wanted to give her. She'd once told him about a story her father read her, about a genie and a saying, "your wish is my command". He'd thought that that was exactly how he felt about her.

From the moment he'd met five year old Abigail Morgan, he knew he'd do anything that she'd ever ask of him. Twisted? Perhaps, but regardless, that's how it was. Abi Morgan owned Damon Salvatore body and soul.

Walking carefully to his commanding officer's tent, Damon steeled himself. He would ask for leave, then if not given it, he'd go AWOL. He was heading that way regardless. As his brother had stated in the letter, he didn't give a damn about this stupid "cause". And mostly, he was tired. Bone tired of shooting at boys, for no good reason. "Sir," he said, standing at attention inside the tent. "I need to make a request for leave." His commanding officer looked like he expected it. Of course he did. No one wanted to be here. Well, no one except the damned.

He carefully explained how a woman who was like a little sister to him was very ill and needed him. He even offered to let him read Stefan's letter, hoping he wouldn't take him up on the offer. Thankful when he declined. He then made the mistake of saying he'd do practically anything to get leave.

"Anything?" The officer asked, intrigued. "Well, Salvatore, I actually have something that needs taken care of on the way back to Mystic Falls. If you're willing to do a small task, then I'm willing to give you leave."

And so, Damon sold his soul to his commanding officer to get home that day.

Mystic Falls, VA September 3, 1864

Abigail was sitting up in bed, deciding whether it was worth it to even bother dressing for the day. The servants had been coming upstairs to get their daily briefings as of late, and honestly, she kept hoping for the break in her insomnia to hit any time. Groaning, she got out of the bed. She had to admit, she did ache a little. She rarely felt pain, but it had been quite a while since she ate or slept so she didn't feel her best.

She waited for Sallie to rouse herself from the small bed that she'd made in the corner. She wanted the woman to rest, she deserved it. The worry that she felt for Abigail touched her. As did worry that the two Salvatores felt. It felt nice that she had some type of family.

She allowed herself to shake off the feeling of doom for a brief moment. It was very brief, the darkness was still circling, but she took a slight breath free of fear. Then as fast as that breath, the fear, worry, and doom came rushing back. Suddenly it was closer, closing in enough that it hurt to think. It was closer, almost at the door. She could tell that whatever was coming was nearly here. Her chest was tight, and she couldn't take a breath. She couldn't close her eyes because now she could see it coming closer.

They were all in danger. Damon, Stefan, Mr. Salvatore, Sallie, the entire town of Mystic Falls. Everything they knew and loved, everything was in danger. Everything was going to burn. She could see it as clear as the day that was dawning outside and as the tears ran down her face, she knew it would come with the face of an angel.


	6. Chapter 6

Mystic Falls, VA September 5, 1864

Abigail heard a giggle as she left her room. She couldn't place it. None of the maids were prone to giggling, at least not during working hours. She still felt the hovering darkness, but once there was a confirmation of the objective of the darkness, there was a break. She finally passed out. For two days Abigail slept and Sallie watched over her. The household had a sense of being back on track.

That's why, on the second day, as Abigail was leaving her room, the giggle was such a conundrum. She stopped and tried to place it. Sallie had already left after making sure Abigail was dressed appropriately for the day. She hadn't said that they had visitors, and so Abigail was left with no idea of whom could be downstairs giggling. Arching an eyebrow, she descended the stairs and found a young woman at the bottom.

Dark hair in elaborate curls on top of her head, and a dress that looked as though she put a great deal of thought into it, the young woman turned as Abigail appeared at the end of the staircase. She was taller than Abi, but that wasn't all that shocking, almost everyone was taller than Abi. Fear clutched at Abi's throat, however, when their eyes met. This was the angel she had seen in the darkness.

A cold chill fell over the room, or so it felt to Abigail as the two women sized one another up when Abigail's feet finally found the floor of the entryway. Mr. Salvatore was standing with the interloper, as was Stefan, whom Abigail noted, had hold of the hand of said person. Raising an eyebrow at the vision presented, she smiled at her guardian and attempted to ignore her betrothed.

"Good morning." She said, as Mr. Salvatore, offered his hand to her with a smile. "I'm so sorry I've been indisposed."

"Not at all, my dear," he answered, kissing her knuckles in a rare show of affection. "We're extremely happy to see you so well recovered." His smile confirmed his words. "You had us worried. Didn't she, Stefan?" He gave a look to his occupied son, glaring at the hand on this new young woman.

Stefan glanced up, caught flirting by his father, and the woman he was promised to. Attempting and failing to look chastened, he smiled awkwardly at Abigail. "I am glad to see you look so rested, Abigail." It had a ring of truth to it, so she answered his smile. "Could I introduce to you our visitor?" She tilted her head in answer, and he went on. "This is Katherine Pierce. She came to us under tragic circumstances, I'm afraid, but she'll be staying on for awhile." His eyes looked dreamily back at the dark haired and eyed beauty.

Abi stifled a chuckle. If only she could bring herself to force up a fake outrage at being a jilted lover, she thought. She caught sight of his father and thought that his outrage at Stefan was quite enough for the both of them. Focusing back on the young woman, Katherine was it, she noticed that she too was taking the entire interplay in as well.

"Hello, Miss Pierce." She answered, offering the hand that Mr. Salvatore wasn't still holding. "Welcome to our home."

Katherine took it, and the chill she felt earlier intensified. Death, pure cold death surrounded this beauty. Abigail swallowed hard. She hoped that her face didn't betray her, but looking into Katherine's eyes told her that she had felt something as well.

"Yes, well, Abigail is it?" Katherine said, in what sounded like a forced breathy voice. "While tragedy brought me to Mystic Falls, I hope that the kindness of strangers keeps me here." She refocused on Stefan, and Abigail felt Mr. Salvatore squeeze her fingers.

"I'm sure you'll find our town is very friendly, Miss Pierce." Abi answered. "I hope whatever tragedy befell you, you find your path forward full of joy and happiness." She pulled her hand from Mr. Salvatore's grip and moved to stand beside Stefan as she judged that he wanted her to, and put her arm through his. "After all, our family is only one of the many friendly families here that are more than willing to help troubled orphans find their way." She smiled up at Stefan, reminding him of their supposed union.

Katherine's eyes narrowed, but Abigail knew that the message was sent loud and clear. Taken. It made Abi uncomfortable, but this was her life now. Her reality and her future. No matter what she wanted.

Mystic Falls, VA September 14, 1864

Damon could see the chimneys of his house long before he could see the house. He thought long and hard about how he would greet Abi. Would he rush to her room, if that's where she was, and drag her into his arms for a long wished for embrace? He probably stank of war. Sweat, fear, smoke, and God knows what else. Or should he wait, wash up, take some refreshment, speak to Stefan and his father for an update on her condition, then find her?

Closing his eyes, he thought back to his last night before he left. The last time he saw her. She was crying, and he wanted nothing more than to make her stop. He begged and pleaded. He asked her for her blessing, a stupid idea really. All he'd really wanted, if he was being honest with himself, was to hold her and to kiss her, finally. Instead, he'd held her, and told her that he'd come back safe and sound. That was all.

He rounded the last bend in the road and there it was, the house he'd grown up in. A house that meant nothing to him until she came to live in it. Inside right now was the girl he was in love with, and she was hurting, so he wanted nothing more than to rush inside and find her. He stopped and took a breath. He told himself to take it slow, for her sake.

Then he heard a noise that he didn't expect. He heard a giggle coming from the gardens. A giggle? Was Abi feeling better already? He heard Stefan's voice coming from the gardens too, so he followed the voices, and then he saw HER.

And he forgot why he came home in the first place.

UPSTAIRS

Abigail was upstairs while Stefan was playing some type of game with an odd shaped ball in the gardens with Katherine. She was happily reading, and didn't think anything of the breathy giggles or the silly yelling. At times she considered yelling down at them to keep it down, since she was beginning to get a bit of a headache, but then she reconsidered. She didn't want them to think she was jealous. It would only egg Katherine on if she thought she was getting a rise out of the "competition".

At some point the giggles and the yelling stopped, and Abigail sighed in gratitude, then another voice joined. Her heart stopped. It was a voice she hadn't heard in months, but one she could pinpoint in a crowded room. She rushed to the window and was about to shout out, but realized that he didn't even notice she wasn't around. Below, she watched Damon Salvatore, her best friend in the entire world, not even notice that he didn't notice her missing.

If heartbreaks are real, then at that moment hers shattered. Every single piece of hers fell into dust. When she'd held back from the betrothal with Stefan, the last issue had been Damon. That was gone now. Marrying Stefan was no longer a problem. So he was a stranger, so they didn't love one another, so, so , so? Nothing mattered any longer.

While the two brothers played with their new toy, Abi carefully made her way downstairs to speak with Mr. Salvatore. She wanted to finalize her parents' will. She wanted to know every single thing that she'd been too young to know before and she wanted to know when the wedding would take place. It was time to know everything. Now.


	7. Chapter 7

Mystic Falls, VA September 15, 1864

Abigail was considering what she'd learned from her future father-in-law the previous afternoon. She was an incredible wealthy woman. In fact, it wasn't so much her becoming a rich man's wife, as Stefan becoming a rich woman's husband. She smirked. She learned that technically her parents hadn't picked her husband, which was as much as she'd supposed, Mr. Salvatore wouldn't have given Damon any sort of happiness in any form. She should feel vengeful for her former best friend, but seeing as he still hadn't come to tell her he was home safe, she couldn't find it within her.

Instead, she and Giuseppe had hammered out the details of her future. The wedding would take place in January. She and Stefan would both be eighteen years old, not as young as they could have been. They would make their home in the house her parents had commissioned prior to their deaths, as she'd expected. Sallie, would go with her, naturally. She'd have no slaves, of that she was adamant. She even gotten him to agree to a dowry for Stefan.

Since the rest of the family was sitting inside, doing God knows what, she took the opportunity to enjoy the gardens. Walking the familiar paths, ones that she knew by heart, she contemplated the change in how she saw her future. While she knew, without a doubt that Katherine Pierce was going to bring some sort of tragedy to Mystic Falls, Abigail was just as sure that she was going to go fully into this new future with her eyes wide open. Stefan would come into this marriage, not as her superior, but as her equal. If he chose to be rude, then they would have to work at understanding that she had the upper hand.

Feeling better than she had in some time, she walked into a darker part of the gardens. She hadn't realized she'd gone farther from the house than she'd meant to, nor did she realize that she wasn't being careful about being watchful of the darkness. When Katherine stepped out from behind one of Abigail's favorite trees, she had to stifle a gasp.

"Miss Pierce," Abigail said conversationally, happy to hear no tremor in her voice. "I'd assumed you were in the house with the brothers, one or the other, that is." She said, letting her know that she knew of her games.

Katherine smirked, wondering if Abigail had a preference. "Every girl needs a break now and again, even you." She looked around, feigning boredom. "So is it Stefan or Damon?"

"Pardon?" Abi asked, moving to the bench under the tree that Katherine had carefully hidden herself behind. She knew what Katherine was asking, but she wasn't feeling very forthcoming.

Rolling her eyes in a very unladylike manner, Katherine repeated herself, this time with more venom. "Stefan or Damon? Who are you in love with?"

Abigail clicked her tongue as if in careful thought. "Ah, that's a strange question. Whatever makes you think I'm in love with either of them?" She tilted her head, studying Katherine as though she were a particularly interesting puzzle.

"You held onto Stefan's arm as though marking him as taken, that first day I met you." She answered, with narrowed eyes. "And as for Damon, you two don't even look at each other." She tilted her head to study Abi in earnest. "If that doesn't scream horrible breakup, I don't know what does."

Abigail quirked her brow. "Well, sorry to disappoint. Damon and I can't have had a breakup because we've never been together. As for Stefan, you have a point there. Our wedding is in January." She shrugged her shoulders, and sighed. "Although to be fair, neither he nor I chose the other. Arranged marriage, rich people burdens."

Katherine glared at Abi and for a moment she was scared, then she reconsidered. They were in the garden, in broad daylight. What could this woman do to her? Nothing. Abi would scream and she'd be removed. Then whatever schemes that Katherine had planned would be foiled. Letting out a sigh, she relaxed. Which was when Katherine rushed her and snapped her neck.

She didn't have a chance to scream. She didn't have a chance to think. The last thing she saw was the look of triumph on the angel's face as she clutched her throat and the sound of her own neck breaking and then the darkness overcoming her.


	8. Chapter 8

Mystic Falls, VA September 15, 1864

It was dark when Abigail awoke beneath the tree that she'd had her neck broken under. She supposed she could consider herself lucky that Katherine hadn't buried her. Although, why wasn't she still dead? She felt her neck in the dark, and couldn't feel any pain. Nothing seemed amiss so she stood up from where the horrible bitch had left her and looked around.

She really had been farther from the house than she'd planned on walking. She was listening to see if there was anything worrisome out in the dark with her, after all she could remember the other attacks she'd heard about, when she heard people calling her name. Shaking her head and thinking all manner of horrible thoughts about Katherine Pierce, she answered.

"I'm over here!" Abi yelled, surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded. Perhaps dying did that to you, she thought. "I'm near the willow at the end of the garden!" She screamed.

Stefan found her first, looking like he'd had the largest fright of his life. Which she supposed it was close. He checked her for bruises or bleeding, then he did something that shocked them both, he pulled her to him and lifted her bridal style. Burying his face in her hair, she felt him whisper, "Never scare me like that again, Abigail. I thought she killed you."

Puzzled by the meaning of his words, did Stefan know that Katherine was evil? Abigail allowed him to carry her home. Everyone, it appeared had noticed she was missing when the dinner hour approached and Sallie raised the alarm. Mr. Salvatore had every servant combing the house and grounds looking for her, and Stefan, Katherine, and Damon were supposed to be helping. Stefan was the only one that seemed to have followed through.

Once Stefan carried Abigail over the threshold of the house, Mr. Salvatore asked the foreman where his other son was and no one seemed to be able to locate him. A few minutes passed and then the telltale giggle was accompanied by Abi's former best friend, openly fixing their clearly mussed clothing, came down the stairs. Everyone on the first floor froze, awaiting the storm of the elder Salvatore. It never came. Only the pure icy cold indifference of a father who expected nothing less from a son who gave nothing but disappointment. And from Abigail, his former friend, whom he made no eye contact with, he received not even the barest hint that she recognized him. In truth, she didn't. This Damon was foreign to her.

Saying goodnight, and a very grateful thank you to Stefan and her searchers, Abigail begged off from a late dinner. She had seen, in the eyes of her attempted murderer, that tonight she'd have company. She was curious, probably more than Katherine, how she'd survived having her neck broken. And she was terrified, what new attempt was coming next.

Before Katherine came, Abi wanted to see in her mirror if there were any sign of the trauma that Katherine had perpetrated upon her. She checked both sides of her neck, but there wasn't even the slightest hint of a mark. Not an indentation, not a bruise, nothing to prove that she'd touched Abi. Only the fact that Abigail had been unconscious for hours, that alone proved that something had happened. Well, and the hoarseness of her throat upon waking. She was contemplating what this could mean, not only to her, but to the entirety of her existence.

Sallie came in moments after she completed her inspection. She patiently allowed her maid to help her prepare for bed. Dressing carefully, and forcing a calmness she didn't feel. She begged off allowing her to stay in the room. Asking Sallie to stay with another maid for the night.

"I need a night alone, Sallie, please." She said, smiling sadly as Sallie agreed. She hoped the maid could get to the other maid's room without coming across Mr. Salvatore.

After the room was shut for the night, Abi crawled to the middle of her bed. She made sure the lamp was turned down low, she didn't need it to see. The moon was nearly full tonight, it was how Stefan found her so easily so far from the house. She didn't even need the fireplace lit, this close to fall, yet it was still unseasonably warm. She stayed still in the bed, waiting, certain her guest would show herself soon enough.

She felt the flutter of the curtain before she saw it. And there she was, still looking so very angelic, yet so very evil. Abi waited, knowing that Katherine would have her say, and then make her move in her own time. There was something wrong with this woman, and while Abigail didn't have a word for it, she knew that there must be one.

"How are you not dead?" She whispered, her voice harsh and no longer breathy.

Abigail considered her question. "I haven't a clue." She answered honestly. "No one has ever tried to kill me before. So I've never risen from the dead before." She glared at Katherine. "I noticed you were really torn up about it, thanks for waiting until my body was cold before tearing Damon's clothes off. I really thought you preferred Stefan, guess I picked the wrong brother." She said, shrugging.

Katherine glared back. "I had to kill time while they searched for your corpse." She rolled her eyes. "These people are inept. I thought I would have to wait until the vultures arrived." She moved toward the bed. "You're immortal and you don't know it?" She looked Abi up and down. "You can't be a-" She stopped herself, taking into account something. She thought about something else. "It's almost a full moon. Are you-Do you change around this time every month?"

She was being cryptic and Abigail was glaring still. "Do I change how?" She asked. "Do I bleed like grown women?" She asked arching an eyebrow. "Yes. Do I turn into a goat? No." She glared some more. "Are you an idiot? Yes. Are you an attempted murderer? Absolutely."

Katherine was also losing her patience. "No, you imbecile. Do you turn into a wolf?" She hissed. "Are you afflicted with the moon curse?"

Abigail burst out laughing. "Werewolves?" She was snickering and she couldn't help it. "You want me to entertain the idea that there are werewolves and that I could be one? No, I don't get furry during the full moon." She started to think that the thing the darkness was warning about was an unstable crazy woman who might just go nuts on their family.

"I'm crazy because I asked if you were a werewolf? I broke your neck in the garden and you're still alive." Katherine stated. Abi sobered, realizing she was correct. "You're not human. Whatever you are, you are in my way. So, Abigail Morgan, I guess I have to take a more direct approach. Messy, but final."

Abigail swallowed hard, and then Katherine steeled herself faster than Abi could prepare, she ripped her throat out. As Abi's blood flowed out, before she lost consciousness again, she heard Katherine begin to vomit, and that's when she realized, death would never come easy for her.


	9. Chapter 9

Mystic Falls, VA September 16, 1864

Waking up in her own bed, surrounded by clotted blood and savagery, wasn't nearly as bad the second go. Messier, as Katherine had warned, but not as strange. Although the cleanup was a bitch. Muttering in the predawn hours, Abigail stood up and looked at the carnage. Part of the mess was clearly from her. Blood and gore, yet, there was also a blackened tar-like substance that must have been the vomit that she heard come from Katherine.

Good, Abigail thought. Serves her right for attempting to kill me for a second time on the same damn day. Shaking her head, she headed to the mirror again. Covered in dried gore, she looked for any wound, healing or otherwise. Nothing remained besides the carnage to clean. And there was more than enough of that to go around.

Glaring at the enormity of the job, she considered options. Nothing short of gathering things into a case of sorts and burning evidence would do. Hopefully the kitchen fires were still burning and if not that, perhaps one in the fields was going that she could toss the ruined linens, pillows, her shift, and whatever else that bitch ruined.

Abigail poured some clean water into the wash basin and cleaned her honey brown hair, wishing she could draw a long bath, but knowing that would cause tongues to wag. She shook her head and worked to get rid of all the blood. That bitch had better stay as far away from her as she could, if only to keep Abi quiet about her homicidal tendencies.

Her cleanup of the room and herself was finished just as the house began to fully come to life. She was walking back up the stairs as Mr. Salvatore was coming down. His eyes lit up with surprise at seeing her up and dressed so early.

"Abigail," he greeted, smiling in surprise. "Good morning, to what do I owe this glorious surprise."

"Just a little light housekeeping," she answered, going for simple honesty. "I needed to toss some things out of my room that were collecting dust. I was heading back up since no one was awake yet." She smiled back. "Have you heard how the Founders' Party is going?" She asked, realizing that now that they were both awake, they might as well make good of it.

"Actually, I'm glad you brought it up. Mrs. Lockwood dropped by yesterday, before we," he fumbled his words.

"Before my whereabouts were known?" She offered with embarrassment.

"Yes, well, she asked if you'd be willing to volunteer for the planning committee." He said, as they both moved toward his office. He took the seat behind the desk and she took her usual seat at the right.

She considered. It would keep her away from Katherine, a blessing in itself. And it would begin her life as a Founding family wife. Her future, a role her mother wanted for her. She supposed it had to happen sooner or later.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get started on the duties I'll have after January," she said by way of answering. "I'll call on Mrs. Lockwood tomorrow." She smiled. They settled in on the monthly budget and discussed the other ordeals of running the house, as her position as lady of the house she had responsibility over.

As the house came alive, they finally agreed that their daily briefing was concluded. Smiling, Abigail left the office and nearly bumped into Damon. Barely glancing up, she muttered an "excuse me" and walked away. He hardly gave her a glance in reply.

His thoughts were on Katherine and where she and his brother were secreted away. He knew what Katherine was and he was proud to say that unlike his weak younger brother, she had never had to compel him to drink her blood. He planned to become her eternal partner, and he was fully aware of his choice. Stefan, weak, simple Stefan didn't deserve Katherine. That's why he needed to find them.

Katherine was secreted away with Stefan. They were in her room and Emily was watching for the other brother. Stefan was Katherine's pet. So soulful. So deep. Also not willing to drink without compulsion. He'd seen her break Abigail's neck and it and broke her hold. She'd had to hold him for hours the day prior, pressuring him to stay, until finally she had to let him go.

Rolling her eyes, she straddled him, feeding him a little more of her blood. Telling him it was whatever nonsense she was feeding him today, while promising him the sun, moon, and stars. There was something about this one. He was so-she couldn't put her finger on it, but she wanted him. Damon was fun, pretty and passionate. But Stefan, he was the one that she wanted.

Although if it made Abigail Morgan's life miserable, she'd take them both. Hell she'd take them both and burn the whole town to the ground. Smiling, Katherine leaned in and kissed Stefan, biting his lip and drinking the drop of blood that came to the surface. Letting the sweet taste of it drive the horrible memory of the night before from her mind.

Katherine watched as Abigail Morgan sat on her bed and swallowed hard when she steeled herself. She had known that an attack was coming, but not what kind. If she had it in her to feel sorry for the girl, she might have at that moment. No one had ever really felt sorry for Katherine, however, so she didn't feel the need to extend the service to anyone else.

Katherine attacked, ripping at the young girl's throat. As her teeth tore at the tender skin, she felt the rush of hot blood and thought at least she could feed and kill a rival. It didn't work out as well as planned, however, because as soon as the blood hit her mouth, all she could taste was rot. It felt like she was eating something that had been dead for longer than she'd been alive. Then it felt like everything she'd ever tasted, much less eaten came up. She felt like she would never stop vomiting. It looked like tar and smelled vile. Abigail was dead again, or looked like it.

Experience meant she'd be alive again within hours. Katherine pulled herself together and left the room. She fed from the first servant she could find, not eating too much, fearful of killing and not being able to hide the body. Then she found her room and slept off the sickness.

Emily couldn't explain Abigail Morgan. She swore that no one, not even her most powerful ancestors had ever heard of anyone like her. So what the Hell was she?


	10. Chapter 10

Mystic Falls, VA September 20, 1864

Abigail had been helping Mrs. Lockwood and the rest of the Founders' council wives and volunteers with the Founders' Party for two weeks and slowly the party came together. Between the party and the trickle of gossip about Abi and Stefan's betrothal, Mystic Falls seemed to have a great deal to celebrate.

Abigail, on her own, however, felt as though she had the opposite. Between the planning of the party and dealing with the drama of a homicidal creature hellbent on having both brothers under roof, the word 'trying' didn't begin to cover it. She knew the gossip would eventually come out. The servants wouldn't be able to help themselves. They couldn't stay blind to what was happening under their roof. She wasn't looking forward to it, but she wasn't going to borrow trouble either.

The darkness was still gathering, it wasn't indistinct, but it wasn't completely solidified either. Abigail wasn't going to allow it to retake her focus. She fought against it, harder than she'd ever fought it. While she couldn't sleep, she forced herself to eat. Not a great deal, but enough to keep her family from worrying and keeping watch. She kept Sallie with her, however, using the excuse that she would need the maid as a chaperone for the many trips she would be making for the party planning.

Sallie, for once showing the strength of character that Abigail had hoped she'd grow into, realized the import of her necessity. She took note of her mistress' lack of sleep, yet kept her peace. She served Abigail smaller portions, yet made no discussion of it with the man of the house. She asked the kitchens to make ready a tea set and a kettle for Abi's room, thus allowing her to keep her mistress in stock of the one thing that kept her in her spirits.

The days stretched, and Abigail waited for the shape to emerge from the darkness to tell her where the true danger lay. And as she waited, she watched the Salvatore men grow taunt in their standoff over Katherine Pierce.

Granted this was a three-way standoff. On one side stood two brothers facing off: Stefan, Abigail's would be bridegroom, compelled against his will to believe that Katherine Pierce was the answer to his prayers as the love of his life; on the other side: Damon, Abi's best friend, proud to have chosen the homicidal, bloodthirsty beast with an angel's face. On the other side stood their father, Giuseppe Salvatore. He would allow neither of his sons ruin the family name for an ungodly beast, regardless of what face it wore.

Abigail knew that the standoff couldn't last, something had to give and she was terrified of what would be the first to go. Would it be a brother? Or would it be the action of a father? A cold shiver ran through her and the darkness drew a little closer. No, it couldn't be that. She wouldn't entertain the thought that the darkness could have anything to do with her adopted family. She glared at the darkness, daring it to prove her wrong.

It hovered very near her, but came no closer. She nodded her head with a knowing haughtiness. Of course it wasn't to do with the Salvatores, they couldn't possibly be that dark. She shoved the thought away and went back to her book. She'd know soon enough, she always did, after all.

What she hadn't any awareness of, as she ran through this mental exercise within the privacy of her bedroom, was that she'd left her door slightly ajar and she'd had an audience. Emily, Katherine Pierce's maid had witnessed her silent, yet amazingly visible exercise. As she stood in the sliver of light, she watched as the small young woman tried to make sense of a hovering darkness. Emily's eyes widened as she watched Miss Morgan tried to force this darkness to take some definable shape, to try to figure out where or who the terror was.

Whatever this girl was, she was powerful. Stepping away from the door, she contemplated not telling Katherine. After all, what she'd just seen wasn't something she'd been told to find out. Biting her lip, she weighed the consequences. And then she made up her mind.


	11. Chapter 11

Mystic Falls, FA September 22, 1864

Abigail had been correct that the gossip would eventually take root and find an audience. It had taken longer than she'd expected, but the Founders' Party was scheduled for two days hence and all anyone seemed to be speaking about was Stefan's interest in Katherine Pierce.

She was at the Lockwood mansion, helping with the final preparations, and no less than four wives had given her hand sympathetic squeezes. She had caught more servants in guilty cancelled conversations than she cared to discuss, and heaven forbid she even contemplate the daughters or sons that were giving her what she decided to call 'the look'.

She had thought about begging off once or twice a dozen times, but then reconsidered. She wouldn't give Katherine the satisfaction. It was bad enough the bitch had attempted to kill her twice, she'd not allow her to run Abigail off from her rightful place on the Founders' council. And so she stayed. She stayed and accepted the tuts of the wives as they offered interesting tidbits of wisdom such as, "It's better, you know, that Stefan gets this out of his system now. Then he won't want to when you wed." or her personal favorite, "If he ruts with others, you will have more time for more enjoyable pastimes such as sewing or enjoying your children."

Her head felt like it was going to explode by the time she was finished for the day. She found Sallie, and realized that her maid was of the same mind. Apparently neither of them had enjoyed their day away from home. Their return trip was silent, and it was growing dark, not dark enough to have fear, but enough to keep them on the alert. They'd brought the carriage, and as Sallie maneuvered the horses down the lanes toward home, Abigail considered her future now that Katherine Pierce had come along and mucked the world up.

She wasn't so focused on this new train of thought that she wasn't conscious of the darkness, it was still circling, still pressing down. And as she was contemplating the future, she realized that it was sharpening.

Sallie was partially thinking about the future too, and her thoughts were dark as well. Darkening by the moment, as she was remembering what she'd heard at the Lockwoods. The rumors of the brothers obsession with Katherine was growing, and while she still held out hope that the infatuation that Stefan held could be broken with both his father's iron will, and with the sweetness she felt her mistress had in spades, she was worried.

The darkness that Abigail had been fighting started to solidify, and it was coming ever closer. She watched, while Sallie drove, knowing that even while her maid was preoccupied they were safe. She needed to know where the threat was going to come from and only the darkness could truly tell her that. Studying the swirling dark, she waited, patient, that was the virtue to this power. Sitting in silence and almost completely still, she studied the dark as it started to settle into lines and faint shading. When the threat was finally known, Abigail looked down, tears flowing freely. She didn't feel so smug now. Her future was done. Her world over. The threat had a face. Stefan.

Abi finished the drive in silence. If Sallie heard her crying, she was kind enough not to mention it. They made it home and she went straight to her room and straight to bed. She had to decide how to tell Mr. Salvatore. Should she tell him? Would he even believe her? She lay in bed, the exhaustion of the darkness calling her to sleep. Before it pulled her under, she begged for an answer.

The next morning, she felt she had it. She would leave. Leaving was cowardly, yes, but then she wouldn't have to make the decision. She couldn't destroy Stefan. She didn't know him, but he was a part of this adopted family of hers. They took her in and they kept her. He had been willing to make her happy in what could have become an unhappy marriage. If she told his father what she'd seen, and he took her at her word, pure and simple, he may act on it. She could not have Stefan's blood on her hands. Not the little boy she met all those years ago.

She had a flash of the look of triumph that Katherine's face would have when she saw Abigail's note of goodbye and felt a hot knife of irritation in her stomach, but forced it aside. This wasn't some petty competition for popularity. She couldn't care who won in this fight. She had to trust that Mr. Salvatore would figure out a way to get Katherine away from Stefan and Damon on his own.

The Founders' Party was the next night. If Abigail could arrange transport, and she had to pray that it was possible, then she could be gone during everyone's frivolity. She looked at the gown that Stefan had accompanied her to buy. It was hung in the window by her bed. The black beads catching the early morning light and shining against the midnight blue silk. She had to make an appearance, or there would be an alarm raised. Perhaps one dance, she nodded. Then she'd go. Far, far away, she would leave and perhaps, one day she could come back.

She felt tears trying to come, but forced them away. There wasn't any time. She had to plan. She'd never traveled, but she had read a great deal. Hopefully all that research would help. She got out of her bed and began her day. Pretending everything was exactly like any other, all the while working toward making sure it would be her final full day and night in Mystic Falls.


	12. Chapter 12

Mystic Falls, VA September 24, 1864

Abigail was packed for her impromptu trip. Her hardest choice was whether or not she wanted to bring Sallie along. On one hand, she hadn't wanted to leave Sallie to the impulses of Mr. Salvatore. On the other hand, Sallie had never left home either. In the end, she gave her the choice. Sallie chose to come with her. She understood that Abigail needed to leave, even if she didn't completely comprehend why.

The details were easier to hammer out than Abigail had imagined possible. She's simply sent one of the other servants to town with Sallie and instructions of what she'd wanted. They'd returned with the tickets. Then her room was packed and the baggage sent, while everyone in the house was indisposed with their own distractions. Stefan and Damon preoccupied with Katherine, and their father preoccupied with getting them out of her clutches.

Now, sitting in front of her vanity, Abigail was being put together for the Founders' party by Sallie. Her honey brown hair, always wavy with curls, was being brushed into submission and carefully set in a deceptively casual updo. Lovely beaded flowers entwined in the tumbled curls, and Abigail was impressed by Sallie's ingenuity. The dress was a work of art, even if the day she had purchased it was not a day she wished to relive. Her elbow length gloves had the same black beads running the length of them and edged across where the fingers should be. Her shoes also bore the same type of beads. Standing, Sallie let out a small sigh of contentment. And Abigail arched one eyebrow in curiosity.

"Well, if there was ever any doubt as to whether you could hold your own against HER," Sallie said, with a wrinkle in her nose, she swept her hand at the full picture her mistress formed. "This proves that theory wrong."

She wore no makeup, none was needed. Her lips were naturally a rose color, and her eyes a light green that shone in any light. Her cheeks glowed with a rosy blush at her maid's compliment. Pale skin, without any blemish, and her slight figure painted a picture that Sallie correctly stated could give any woman in Mystic Falls a run for the loveliest title. Abigail smirked and shook her head.

"You're incorrigible." She smiled, and then gave her leave. "Put on your best dress, Sallie. You're my date, after all."

Her maid chuckled and rushed to do her own toilet. She'd given her a gown that was probably above her station, and would no doubt make her the talk of the town, but Abigail couldn't find it in her to care. It wasn't like she'd be around to hear the gossip. And she wanted Sallie to grow used to the dress and station. They weren't going to be in America for much longer. She didn't want to travel with a maid, she wanted to travel with a companion.

For one bright moment, they weren't locked in a dreary situation. They were simply two women getting ready for a party. And they smiled in front of the mirror, giving one another compliments about their appearances. Abigail and Sallie needed that moment of normalcy more than either realized, because the evening wouldn't be as easy as they hoped.

When they entered the Founders' Party, tongues did wag. Abigail could feel the eyes upon them. She and Sallie made quite the pair. She in her dark blue gown and Sallie dressed in pale pink. Her maid looked amazing, even if she felt uncomfortable. She asked her to stay at her side, and only gave her leave when she asked for it.

Abigail walked to the Founders' roll. Taking the fountain pen, she carefully signed her name. She heard Stefan behind her, speaking to Katherine. His date, obviously. She wondered where Damon was. Turning she smiled at seeing the two of them.

"Good evening, Stefan, Katherine." She said, not a hint of her anguish showing. They both smiled back. God bless good breeding she thought. She looked into Stefan's eyes, noting they were dark tonight. They also looked glazed, clearly heavily compelled. "I hope you both enjoy the party." She turned to go, but his hand stopped her.

"Perhaps we could have a dance, Abigail." He said, his brow furrowed. He looked confused, as though uncertain. "I feel like we haven't had a chance to speak in days."

She smiled sadly. He didn't even know when they last spoke he was so addled. "Perhaps, Stefan." She pulled away, and walked toward Sallie. Damon moved out of the shadows into her path. She pulled up short. "Hello, Damon." Her face showed no pleasure at his presence. She didn't know this version of him. And she moved to pass him, but he blocked her.

"A dance, old friend?" The music had just begun, and she recognized it. The waltz, no touching, hands inches apart, yet facing your partner. Torture, in other words. Sighing, and seeing no polite way to decline, she agreed with a nod.

They moved to the dance floor in the ballroom. She tried to look at a spot just above his shoulder, anywhere but his eyes. The eyes that once held such promise. Promise for their future, a future where they could always count on each other to have one another's best interests at heart. Not now. Now neither could be counted on to even know the others intent for even a dance.

As they circled one another, their movements a perfect mirror of one another, Abigail wondered how he felt about Stefan being chosen as Katherine's date for the evening. Was rage boiling just beneath the carefully crafted surface? Surely he wasn't as calm as his voice had sounded upon asking her for a dance? She dared a glance at his face and her fear was confirmed. He was enraged by her choice. This dance was simply to see if she would answer in kind. Abi was a pawn in the game.

Another sigh escaped. This dance couldn't end fast enough. Sadly the waltz was slow, meandering, romantic, and seductive. She fought an eye roll. Her feet and hands knew the route of the steps. With Damon as a partner, she also knew that they made quite a vision. Before he'd left for service, any time they would dance, people watched. She often overheard people say that no other couple moved the way they did, in tandem, no matter the dance. They could anticipate the other's moves, and they often adapted quickly. Because she knew this intimately, she allowed her mind to wander as her body performed.

As the dance changed from complete non-touch to being in Damon's arms, she felt no difference. Her body adapted to the change as it always did, without notice. She shifted easily and together they moved. She was completely unaware of the eyes taking in their closeness, the way they held one another even without looking at one another. How effortless they were together, people thought, with a tinge of sadness that she was betrothed to the wrong brother. And that rumors were that even this one had set his sights on the competition.

Tomorrow at this time, she thought lost in her own thoughts she'd be on the ocean. Getting further and further away. A smile played upon her lips as she allowed herself the respite from gossip. Their audience, and as their past would confirm, they had an audience, would assume she was enjoying herself. Her dreams carried her to the end of the song. Tilting her head, still ignoring eye contact with her former friend, she bid adieu to Damon, and moved to leave the dance floor.

Not getting two feet, her path was again blocked. This time by Stefan. Fighting another sigh, she assented to another dance.

"I feel as though you're saying goodbye," he whispered, glazed eyes clearing for the briefest moment. "So please, let's have a moment, Abigail."

She nodded, and he took her into his arms. A different dance altogether, she felt eyes focused on them. Entirely different from the dance she shared with his brother. They were stilted, not comfortable together. "Stefan, you are in danger." She whispered, barely more than a breath. She felt that the very walls listened. "And I feel the town itself is inasmuch danger from you as you are from her."

She felt him stiffen against her hands. "I know," his voice wasn't any louder than her own. "I can't seem to fight her. Every time I break free, the need for her rushes back." He was pleading. "Father knows. I'm frightened, Abigail. You're right to leave. You have to get away." His words were rushing, like he knew her hold was coming again. "She hates you and she'll stop at nothing to get rid of you." She felt a slight pressure against her head, a kiss? "Leave. Soon!"

Then he was gone, in the midst of a song, and she was alone in the middle of the dance floor. As though he had jilted her in full view of our entire town and he walked stone faced back to her, and took her into his arms, and finished the dance.

Pale, Abigail carefully walked off the dance floor, with her held high and found Sallie. She was done. Her duties to Mystic Falls finished. She could go back to the mansion and finalize her plans. A glance around the rooms as she left, confirmed her feelings. The entire room was abuzz. Half was staring at her, not even trying to conceal their obvious gossiping. The other looked embarrassed for her.

Shaking her head in disgust, at the townspeople, at Stefan and Katherine, at herself even, Abigail nodded to Sallie. It was time. Saying short goodbyes to their host and hostess, Abigail took her wrap from the maid in charge of the cloaks, and stepped onto the front porch.

Sallie was still saying a few goodbyes to her friends, trying to be vague, but also final. Abigail understood and felt she owed it to her traveling companion to give her time. She walked to a swing she'd noticed on her visits and took a seat, leaning her head carefully against the chain. She looked up at the scattering of stars visible through the tree branches near the banister and considered that in a few hours she would see a larger expanse of the sky on board a ship.

The smile she had while dancing with Damon returned. Abi couldn't wait to start out. Move forward. Just like she'd promised herself all the years ago, after her parents' and the fire. She didn't hear anyone approach, so she was surprised when he rounded the dark corner of the wrap around porch.

"I thought you left," said the voice she would have recognized from across the house. He stepped out of the shadows and she saw that he was still put out by not being the chosen date for Katherine.

Abigail didn't feel like answering. She gave a small push on the swing and kept gazing at the sky. Her smile faltered because his voice was familiar, but different. There was an edge she didn't recognize. A danger that hadn't been there before. He stayed close to the shadows and watched her sway slightly in the swing.

"Katherine thinks you're competition." He stated, the edge sharper now and a fear she'd never had before rose in her throat.

Abigail refused to speak, she didn't think it wise. She didn't know this person. As the swing swayed, she considered her options. She wouldn't die. It didn't mean that his attempt, if that's what was going to happen, wouldn't hurt or ruin her plans for retreat. She hoped he couldn't see the fear in her eyes, or the building of tears. How could a stranger make someone who once cared so much for her terrify her so much?

He moved, slightly, but enough that Abigail noticed. It was almost predatory and Abigail tried to think of how to react. She realized too late that the swing she was seated on, was out of the way. Just like the bench in the garden had been. She'd unwittingly put herself in a place of danger. He could harm her and until someone raised the alarm, Sallie no doubt, no one would notice.

"If I remove her one obstacle," he was saying, clearly to himself, "then it will be ME, and not Stefan."

Abigail could feel the growing lump in her throat, her best friend really only saw her as a means to an end. Or an end to a means, if she was being realistic. Her end would give him what he wished for most. Katherine's love.

She knew he wasn't as strong as Katherine, but she couldn't fight against him. Wouldn't. If he needed to see her dead to feel peace, then she'd let him. She felt the tears run down her face as he stalked toward her.

HOURS LATER

When Abigail awoke it was in pitch darkness and she couldn't make out any where she could possibly be. The surface she was lying upon wasn't soft, and it wasn't smooth. There were ruts, and moving slightly she felt a rock. Possibly on the ground?

If she was on the ground, however, why couldn't she see the sky? And why couldn't she hear any night sounds? She stopped moving and held her breath. Only the sound of her pulse and heart filled the void. Did he bury her? Dear God.

She moved her hands above her face and pressed. Yes, there was a surface above her, this was smooth, however. Running her hands along and over the surface she began to make a map in her mind of what her hands were touching. The surface above her was smooth, it had a few lines around the edges, and as she moved toward those edges she could feel them move down in a sharp angle. A box.

Not a box, her mind corrected, remembering her adopted family and their burial rituals. A crypt. The ruts and rock beneath her was probably the occupant of the crypt he enclosed her in. She closed her eyes and tried desperately not to scream. Slamming her head back, she apologized to her crypt-mate.

This was going to be a cycle of death and awaking from death, unless she could figure out how to get out of this very heavy box. All thanks to her best friend's ingenuity. This is what she got for her inability to fight back against someone she cared deeply for. She was going to have to harden her heart. If she ever found a way out of this predicament.

Closing her eyes, she considering options. Residents of Mystic Falls only visited the cemetery when people died, and there hadn't been any attacks in days. Even if there had been, someone would have to die near the Salvatore crypt and she would have to know they were outside and her screams would have to be loud enough.

Scratch screaming. Pushing the lid off was an option. If she was a vampire like Katherine, perhaps. Wait, vampire? Where did that come from? A book, maybe. Regardless, she wasn't as strong as her or Damon, obviously.

Although, she started to recall something her papa had taught her when she was little. She was always so tiny, and he wanted to show her how to lift things if they fell on her. She had to think harder. Memories were like sand drifting through her fingers half the time. Come on, Abi. He used a stick, or a branch to move under the lip of whatever had fallen on top of her. He'd used the pillows off the library sofa at first. And the fireplace poker.

Where can I find a stick? She twitched and felt the rock-like thing poke her again. Groaning she contemplated that it wasn't part of her crypt-mate's body. Perhaps the undertaker had accidentally left a pike or a spade in the box? It was possible.

Arching her back and praying that she had ended up inside the crypt of the only idiotic undertaker in America, she pulled at the thing poking her. Feeling it wrench free of the fabric that held it to whom she was sharing the box with, because it most certainly wasn't a spade, Abi tried to decide how to find a loose part of the box to force the hardened bone under.

She used her own fingers, searching in the pure darkness. She prayed for strength and for aid, and there it was, Damon must have missed pushing it all the way back onto the dais. Letting out a heavy breath, she pulled her pilfered arm up and pressed the heaviest and strongest part into the crack. Sending up another prayer, she urged the bone up and over, using the memory of when her papa moved from the pillows on the sofa to the books from the shelves.

Slowly, inch by inch the opening grew. She didn't need a huge opening, just big enough for her to fit through, and as soon as she had it, Abigail pressed herself out. Gasping for breath, and thanking God and whomever was acting as her Guardian angel, she looked at her surroundings. She was definitely in the Salvatore crypt. Moving her entire body out of the tomb, she seated herself upon the grave of Damon's great grandfather, a man who had given his arm in service of her escape. She gratefully tossed it back inside.

The sun was up, mid-morning by the looks of it. So she'd missed her coach, and her ship. Sallie was probably beside herself. And the search was no doubt on. Abigail glanced down at herself. She was coated in grime. Dust, dirt, and she couldn't bear to contemplate what parts of great grandfather Salvatore coated her. Sighing, she contemplated what to do.

She'd defeated death three times. Twice by the hands of a woman who merely wanted her out of the way so she could reign unchallenged. The third by someone she adored. Or had adored. Was running still the best option? She sat on great grandfather Salvatore's grave and considered. She could run, and run, and run. Or she could stay, and help Giuseppe Salvatore ruin Katherine Pierce.


	13. Chapter 13

Mystic Falls, VA September 24, 1864~ Leaving the Party

Sallie exited the Lockwood mansion and searched the entirety of the wrap around porch for Abigail. She'd watched her mistress take her wrap and step outside for air, and for a break from the gossip that had been stirred after Stefan and left her stranded on the dance floor. She had given Sallie leave to say goodbye to her friends, knowing that this may be the last time she would ever see them.

As she took another look around the porch, she stopped at the swing. Something drew her attention and it took a moment to figure out what it was. Once Sallie saw it, however, she couldn't remove it from her memory. There in the corner of the swing, where a young woman may lay her head against the chain to daydream, was one of Abigail's beaded flowers. She felt a chill and ran inside to raise the alarm.

Inside the Lockwood mansion, the party was still in full glorious celebration. The men who weren't dancing were in a corner, locked in a serious debate. When Abigail Morgan's maid, dressed far better than some of their daughters, came rushing in with terror in her eyes they'd assumed another animal attack. What she told them was something far worse. An abduction. And of the town's wealthiest heiress.

Giuseppe Salvatore took control immediately. She was his charge after all, and soon to be his daughter by marriage, regardless of his youngest son's stupid recklessness. He demanded the mansion stay on lock-down for the remaining party goers, keeping the rest of the women safe while the men searched. Then the Founders' Council began sorting the men into search parties.

Giuseppe made sure that his two sons were kept at the house. He made it seem like they were being kept as security for the party, but the truth was he didn't trust them. He'd watched both of them dancing with Abigail and neither had made him feel comforted. As the men gathered weapons, and the women arranged entertainment for while they were gone, Giuseppe asked to see Sallie alone.

He knew she had an aversion to him. This wasn't the time for that. He brushed off her fear and asked her about their evening. What had they done to prepare? Why were they rushing off so early? Why had she stayed inside while Abigail gone outside alone? Had she noticed anyone follow Abigail outside? He knew she was holding back so he reminded her that Abigail's life was at stake.

"Sallie, we don't know where she is. You may have the answer and not know it." He pleaded. "Please, you won't be in trouble."

Sallie started by telling him that they'd gotten ready as women always do. Then they'd arrived and Abigail signed the scroll. Stefan had asked for a dance, but Sallie was with other maids so she had only observed that interaction from a distance. She reminded him of the debacle of Stefan's dance and stranding of Abigail, and said that was why they were leaving. She lowered her head.

"It wasn't the only reason we left early." She whispered. "Miss Morgan wanted to leave Mystic Falls."

Giuseppe raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Leave Mystic Falls? Why?"

"She never fully explained, sir. I think it has to do with Miss Pierce and your sons." Sallie blushed. "I was inside while she was out, because she gave me leave to say goodbye. I was leaving with her, you see." She was terrified of his anger, but she knew he was correct, they needed to find him. "I didn't see anyone follow her, but she was at the darkest end of the porch. By the time I went outside, and I wasn't inside that long after she went outside she was gone." She looked up at him and made eye contact for one of the first times in her life. "I searched that entire porch a dozen times before I saw her hair decoration on that swing. That's when I came in and told you. She's in terrible danger."

Giuseppe nodded in agreement and knew they had little to go on, but at least he knew this much.

"Thank you, Sallie." He said, dismissing her. "Never fear to tell me the truth."

As the searchers left the Lockwood house, Giuseppe made a detour to his home. He asked no one to come with him. He wanted to search Abigail's room, hoping the would find something to help him find her.

In the young woman's room, one he couldn't recall visiting since she'd come to live with him, he found no personal belongs save a change of clothes and two envelopes holding letters. He set those aside for a moment as he continued to look through the furnishings, hoping against hope he'd find anything to give him insight. Clearly they'd sent their belongings ahead, as Sallie said, but he was surprised when he pulled the pillows away from the bedding and found smatterings of heavy bloodstains.

What happened in this room? He wondered as he continued. Above the iron bedstead, he saw more small splashes of blood, as though someone had cut an artery. Only someone who had seen an animal killed or a human would know what it looked like, and he'd seen plenty with the recent slayings.

Refocusing, after finding nothing further of importance, he opened the letters. In the first, which would have eventually been addressed to him. She'd written simply that she couldn't see marrying a man that she not only didn't know, but one that clearly didn't love her. In Stefan, she didn't have a partner, she'd written, she had a stranger. While he had promised to try to get to know her, when a more pretty present came along, Katherine, he promptly forgot his promise. She couldn't live like that. She apologized, but given that she was clearly the more wealthy of the two, she could pick and choose her mate in life. And in the end, Stefan fell short of the mark. She told him that she would send instructions to him concerning the upkeep and care taking of her lands, and as to the financial standings of her holdings, she would be undertaking that on her own now.

The other letter was broader. It was to Stefan, Damon, and the household in general. It was telling everyone goodbye. That she thanked them for welcoming her into their familial fold, but she must leave and find her own way now. That as even baby birds must eventually leave the nest, so too must she. She wanted everyone to know that she appreciated them all. That she would remember them all fondly, their worry for her during her darkest hours, and how they all enveloped her in warmth during her grief. She hoped to one day return, but until then, this was goodbye.

He could see that she would have propped these notes upon the entryway table as she and Sallie exited with their small bags. They were planning on meeting a small coach on their way to a large ship. Excitement would have clung to the two of them. Adventure was in front of them, and darkness would be behind them. Abigail had always been a determined young woman and she would in this instance focus on not bringing it with her. She wouldn't allow herself to cling to what was going to happen to those she was leaving, no matter how much it would hurt her. Forward. That's what mattered. It was how she had always kept going. Her determination was one of the reasons he wanted her as a daughter-in-law.

He sighed. He still didn't know who took her. Or where she was. He had to believe she was still alive. The alternative was too horrifying to even entertain. So where? He needed help of an otherworldly sort. Something that would rise above their human capabilities.

Emily Bennett. Katherine Pierce had brought one of the strongest witches he'd ever heard his slaves speak of into his home, and now he would take advantage of her power. As he left his house, he swore that killing Katherine Pierce would be the crowning glory of his days, because she'd brought corruption into his home and family. And for that, there could be no forgiveness.

Mystic Falls, VA September 25, 1864~ Midnight

Stefan and Katherine were in a corner chatting quietly as Damon sauntered up smugly. He looked like the cat who ate the canary, and it was an apt description. After all, he had gotten rid of the thorn in his ladylove's side.

"Hello, brother," he smirked. "Katherine."

They gave him a look of disbelief. They were stuck in the Lockwood house, and would be for HOURS. All because, once again, Abigail Morgan was missing. The celebratory feeling had ended hours ago, and honestly it wasn't that enjoyable even before then.

"What?" He asked, looking between the two of them. "Had too much fun?" His smile was a little too broad, it was a little too happy.

"Damon," Katherine asked, her voice sounding almost scolding. "What did you do?"

"Why would you assume I did anything?" He asked, feigning innocence. "I've been a wallflower. Just keeping to myself, making my own games."

Stefan looked at his brother and understood. "Where is she?" He hissed.

"Where is whom?" He asked, grabbing an errant glass of wine and taking a sip. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

Katherine's eyes narrowed. "Did you do something to Abigail? Damon, tell me." She was compelling him to tell the truth, because for once, it was necessary.

"I killed her on the porch swing. She didn't even fight me. I wanted to make you happy by being the one to get rid of her." His smile was dreamy with the compulsion. "Then I put her in our family crypt. She's dead and gone."

Stefan's stomach churned. He knew from seeing Katherine break Abi's neck before and carrying her alive into his house hours later, that she couldn't die. And now, she was trapped in a crypt, so she could wake up and repeat the cycle over and over. He heard Katherine chuckle in glee and pull from his arm. She kissed his brother soundly on the lips.

"You've been so bad, Damon, but in such a wonderfully wicked way." She was smiling up at him and they were in their own bubble. Stefan was still thinking of Abigail's fate. And he knew that it would be torture, forever darkness, unlike what she normally dealt with.

"Stefan," he heard her voice and fought against looking at her. He lost. "You will not tell your father or the searchers. You don't know what happened to Abigail Morgan. She's gone, and you're sad that an adopted family member has disappeared, but that's all."

And as quickly as his disgust occurred it was gone. "Isn't it sad that Abigail is missing?" He asked, pulling Katherine to him with a vague frown.

"Indeed," she agreed.

"I couldn't agree more," Damon said, fighting to keep his sadness in place. "It's a terrible tragedy that she can't be found."

Dawn was approaching and no one saw Giuseppe enter the Lockwood house and find Emily Bennett. He told her what he needed, and handed her the notes he'd found in Abigail's room. Emily feared Katherine, but she also found Abigail Morgan fascinating. And so, she allowed the elder Salvatore to lead her into the Lockwood library to attempt a locator spell.

Pulling a map of Mystic Falls from one of the desk drawers, the mayor handed it to Giuseppe. As the two men stood watching, Emily took the note and the map to the desk. There she performed a locator spell, and two men who had never witnessed real magic in play watched mesmerized.

As Emily chanted and focused a line appeared, and it was moving silently toward the cemetery that housed the Salvatore family crypt. Giuseppe's heart lurched, please he begged, don't let this mean she's gone. Finally it hovered above the crypt itself. Shoving away from where he'd been leaning, Giuseppe started moving. He heard the mayor trying to tell him to wait, to take others, but he wouldn't listen. He was going, NOW.

He rushed past his sons, and their demon whore. He rushed past Sallie, who was surrounded by her friends from other households. He rushed past people who he could have rattled off names and debts and other statistics. None of it mattered. There was a young woman, who should have been more in his care, and was now in his family's crypt. Wild horses wouldn't have stopped him from going to the little girl that came into his life at the tender age of five, but became his actual family at thirteen. He hadn't been the father she needed, and now was the time to rectify it.

If someone asked him later what path he took to the cemetery, he couldn't have told them. All that he could have said was that inside the crypt that held his family, sat Abigail Morgan, covered in dirt, grime, and clearly the disgusting insides of one of the actual crypts. Someone had buried her. As he cursed out loud, she looked down from her perch on his grandfather's sarcophagus.

"Hello," She said, sniffling far less than she'd expected. She was exhausted, he could tell, her eyes were drooping and she looked far less put together than she had when she arrived at the party. Yet, she was still trying to keep from falling apart.

"Abigail," he groaned, reaching for the tiny girl that she still was to him. "Come here, my girl. Let me take you home." She flinched, he caught it even if she hadn't wanted him to.

She moved over so he could reach her better. Her dress was ruined, so she chuckled when he tried not to tear it on the lid of great grandfather's box. "It's alright to tear it, I think it's going in the fire anyway." She felt the heat of the tears gathering. He was being so paternal to her, and it was unexpected. "I think your grandfather isn't going to be very nice when we meet again." She buried her face in his suit shoulder and began to cry.

"Whatever happened between the two of you, I'm sure he understands," Giuseppe answered, praying he was saying the right thing. "Dear God, how did you get here?" He asked, walking out of the crypt and into the fresh air. "Who took you, Abigail? Who tried to hurt you?"

She sobbed harder, she couldn't, wouldn't tell him. "I didn't see. It was dark and they attacked me on the porch. Then I was inside with great grandfather." She said through sobs, praying that her lies held. "I only got out because of something my papa taught me."

He kept walking, taking her home through the overgrowth. "Really?" Usually not one for small talk, Giuseppe needed to keep her talking, hearing her voice was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. "What did he teach you?"

"When I was little, before the fire," she hiccuped, a sure sign the crying was lagging. "He said I was too tiny and if anything big ever fell on me, I needed to know how to help myself. He taught me how to leverage things off. I had to borrow great grandfather's arm to lift the lid enough to squeeze through." She felt him chuckle. "I told you, he's not going to be happy with me when we meet again."

"You are so resourceful, Abi." He praised, hoisting her up a little more. "I don't think I give you enough compliments about how smart and determined you are."

"I was leaving," she whispered. "Sallie probably told you, but I thought I had to go."

He nodded, leaving it at that. Since she was using past tense, he assumed she was not as keen to leave as before.

"I'm not sure anymore." She was looking up, the tears dry now. And they were almost home. "I think I need to be here, but it doesn't feel like home anymore."

He understood. "What if," he measured his words. "What if you didn't live under my roof anymore?"

She realized what he was offering. Her house, finally becoming hers. "Without Stefan?" She wanted clarification.

"Without Stefan." He stated firmly. "It's become clear to me that my sons are not mature enough for their own homes." He put her on her feet as they stood in front of the home she'd called hers for five years. "I haven't been the guardian you deserved, Abigail. And for that I am sorry."

Abigail looked up at the man who should have been like a father to her, but had only done it once, today. She tilted her head in acknowledgment.

"When you're ready, we'll get your house ready for you." He smiled sadly. "Even though it's just down the road, I'm going to miss you." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Lily was right, you are the daughter we should have had." He stepped back and opened the gate, holding as they walked through.

By now the lock-down at the Lockwoods' had lifted. Everyone had gone their separate ways, so Stefan and Damon, and therefore Katherine were waiting inside. Abigail steeled her spine and held her head high. No one, not Katherine, not her former betrothed, and for damn sure not the man who she once considered a best friend would see her fail. And that's how, covered in dirt, grime, and God knew what parts of great grandfather Salvatore clinging to her ruined party gown Abigail entered the Salvatore house for one of the last times and stared into the faces of the three people who most wanted her out of the way. She smiled sweetly at the sour faces of her attempted murderers and at poor overly compelled Stefan, and begged off lunch, needing a long, hot soak in a bath.

Sallie rushed forward and gripped her in a bear hug and they excused themselves for the bath. And in the privacy of the rushing water, Abigail told her companion about their impending move.


	14. Chapter 14

Mystic Falls, VA September 25, 1864

While Abigail was bathing and planning upstairs with Sallie, downstairs Stefan had asked for an audience with his father. He'd seen the change between Giuseppe and Abigail when they'd returned and he knew that it meant a change for him as well.

"You will not be marrying Abigail." Giuseppe said, pouring his son a drink. "I see that you're not mature enough and that Abigail deserves a chance to get used to her wealth and her own home. Did you think I wouldn't see your display last night?" He hissed.

Stefan had been about to take a sip of his drink, but stopped and blanched when reminded of leaving Abigail in the middle of a dance. He didn't quite understand his actions, but knew it happened. "Yes, Father." Was his only answer. He looked down. Not marrying Abigail, however, meant that he could have Katherine as his partner. Before that thought got further, his father carried on.

"Our town has become overrun with vampires, Stefan." He studied his son's face, seeing him pale again, and knowing he knew. "We must stamp the evil out. And we will." He wasn't planning on divulging the plans to this immature child. He knew he couldn't be trusted, that was obvious, which was why his drink was laced with vervain.

"Surely not all of those afflicted are evil, Father?" Stefan asked, proving Giuseppe correct. "It's not always a choice, and if you're only making the best out of a bad situation?"

"Perhaps," Giuseppe said, watching as Stefan drank. "I have business, Abigail and I have to discuss her move and I'm sure you have some diversions of your own planned." He knew he'd rush upstairs to that evil whore and then the plan would spin into play.

Abigail and Sallie had finished getting every bit of gore off of Abigail. Out of her hair and her body, which was a miracle, even though it took longer than it should have. Mostly Abi kept asking for more water because she swore she could still smell the crypt. An hour and a half after her bath started, she was finally finished. Sallie nearly cried when Abi insisted that she burn the gown, gloves, shoes, wrap, and hair flowers.

"Sallie, they smell." Abigail said, holding her stomach and making a face. "Please, send them away?"

Finally she agreed, sighing because of the waste. Then they settled at the small vanity and started making a list. While the house her parents had built was furnished, she would still need things like linens, crystal, and china. Curtains, books, and silver were added next. Candles, lanterns, and lamps came up and were put on the list. They were still adding when a commotion occurred that caused them to open the door slightly.

Across the stairwell, where Katherine Pierce had been given a room, Stefan and his father were facing each other and having an argument. Katherine, wearing not much more than her underclothes with her face covered in blood, was being held by some of Giuseppe's men. Clearly it was comeuppance time.

Abigail moved into the hallway outside her room to take full view of the situation. She watched, standing tall, as Stefan begged for the life of his beloved, while his father demanded he go for the sheriff. Abi watched Katherine's face and realized she was ill. Not like she'd been when she drank Abigail's blood, but she'd clearly drank something tainted. When Stefan turned, she saw that he had blood on the collar of his shirt and knew that he was at least the vessel of the poison. She smirked, well played Giuseppe.

She glanced around, curious as to where the other suitor could be hiding. And where was Katherine's maid, Emily? Abigail turned to Sallie.

"Sallie?" She asked, getting the woman's attention from the massive mess unfolding in front of them. "Find Emily, please? And be very careful of Damon."

Sallie nodded and went to find the witch. Abigail wanted to help her adopted father. This mess needed to be taken care of and she planned on helping if she could. She waited until the men had dragged the drugged Katherine from the stairwell opposite and then she rushed down the stairs and found Giuseppe.

"What happened?" She asked, entering his office. "I saw Stefan leave for the sheriff and Katherine being dragged away."

Giuseppe gestured toward her usual chair. "I'm not sure how much you know or have guessed, but there's an evil that has taken root in Mystic Falls, Abigail." He watched her face and saw no sign of surprise so he carried on. "Clearly you knew. One of the reasons you were leaving, I presume?"

She nodded, and sat back to get comfortable. "Yes, I knew." She sighed, suspecting he needed to know more about her as well. "She tried to kill me twice now." His eyes grew round. "I don't know how, but I don't stay dead." She was afraid, would he consider her evil too?" "The first time was when Stefan found me in the garden."

She watched as he recalled the hours spent looking for her and Katherine and Damon not bothering. It dawned on him that there was a reason she didn't bother.

"She broke my neck," Abigail said quietly. "I woke up hours later, no sign of her having touched me at all." Looking into her guardians face she feared the next confession. "She came for me that night. In my room, she tore out my throat. My blood made her ill, though. She threw up as died."

Giuseppe suddenly understood the bloodstains he'd seen in her room. "I searched your room last night, looking for any sign of who might have taken you. I found signs of that attack." His voice was quiet. "You haven't any idea of how you survived? Perhaps neither time was as bad as you'd thought?" Perhaps she was imagining it was worse than it had been.

"Last night I died again," she whispered. "I died, and woke up in that tomb. If I hadn't figured out how to open it, I would have kept dying and waking. Over and over. Torture." She shivered. "That was his plan."

"Who's plan?" Giuseppe demanded. "Tell me, Abigail so I can take care to round him up with the others."

"Others?" She asked. "I thought Katherine was the monster in the dark."

He was shocked. "No, my dear. Twenty-seven vampires are in the town of Mystic Falls. And we're rounding them up. Today."

She felt her eyes go wide. Twenty-seven vampires. Dear God, how had she not known? "Who?"

"Pearl, the apothecary is the only one you'd know off hand. The rest are monsters dressed as people, just know we have confirmation they are monsters." He rose. "I have to make sure Katherine gets to the church. Don't worry, Abigail, by the end of the evening this threat will be over, and our family will be safe and on the path back to normalcy."

She was still trying to wrap her head around Pearl, the woman that Johnathan Gilbert paid court to was a vampire. She was so kind. Different from Katherine as day is from night, and she had a daughter. Still thinking, she realized she was being excused.

"If I can be of some help," she offered.

"Stay inside, Abigail." He ordered. "Be safe." He gave her another kiss on the forehead. "We will figure out how you've managed to stay alive despite Katherine's best efforts and whomever attacked you last night, but for now, humor me?"

She nodded, thinking that her hands were tied. At least until Sallie could find the witch. She walked in a daze back to her bedroom. Whatever was going to happen at Fells' Church? She oddly felt no darkness, nothing scary was hovering near her nor did she feel ill at ease. Whatever was being planned must err on the side of angels.


	15. Chapter 15

Mystic Falls, VA September 25, 1864

Abigail was in her room when it started. The darkness outside her window was mirrored by the darkness swirling inside her bedroom. This was very different from the normal shifting she usually experienced. She was watching while perched on her bed, curious at the change, while Sallie sat at the vanity.

Sallie had returned hours earlier. She couldn't find Emily. And she also hadn't run into Damon. While Abi was sad about the first, she was happy about the second.

She had told Sallie about her chat with Giuseppe. About the round-up and she'd confessed about her own strange quirk. As they sat together, digesting how unusual their current state of affairs were, the darkness had reappeared. The sun had begun to set and Abigail and told Sallie of the sudden change.

And so, they sat and waited to see what the darkness would reveal. Sallie watched as Abigail studied the swirling hovering cloud. She noticed things she hadn't paid attention to before. Such as the way she focused on certain parts of the ceiling, where Sallie could see nothing at all, but apparently where she could see something gathering. Also, Abi seemed to notice a focus shift, because she would shift, her body would move toward a new part of the room seemingly unaware of the shift. It was fascinating.

As the darkness outside became overwhelming, Sallie saw Abigail take a breath and her eyes widened. She was holding back from screaming and then from outside shots rang out. And Abigail held the screams no longer.

Unlike the usual exhaustion, the darkness took her immediately, which Sallie felt was a blessing. Her screams were heart wrenching. She couldn't speak, as she usually did, and tell her what happened or what she saw. Only a heart piercing shriek of pain, as though what she saw broke her heart and made her want to die at the same time. So when she passed out, it was a blessing.

Sallie covered her and sat back down. She wondered why shots rang out and who they were aimed at and by. Then she realized, looking at the tears she streaming down Abigail's face, that maybe she truly didn't want to know.

What Abigail had seen, coming out of the shadows of darkness, that bloomed into a fully colored vision as those shots rang out, were the deaths of Damon and Stefan Salvatore at the hands of their father.

She'd seen the Founders' council working in tandem to fetch all those vampires in the town of Mystic Falls. Twenty-seven as Giuseppe had told her, were being carted off to Fells' Church and then the plan was to burn them, a terrible civilian tragedy of war. Vervain darts and laced blood would help to weaken the vampires, making rounding them up easier. Fire, easier than staking or beheading, would be the quickest death and it would take them all.

Giuseppe failed to realize how deeply attached his two sons were to Katherine Pierce. Whether through compulsion or obsession, they both wanted her. And so, as she was the last on the road to Fells' Church, he hadn't expected to be forced to come face to face with the two of them. Nor had he expected to be forced to be put in the position of the town's safety or his sons' lives. Shutting his eyes, he made the hardest decision he would ever think of making, and then he shot them both in the heart.

Mystic Falls, VA September 26, 1864

Damon awoke at Steven's Quarry, knowing that he'd died at the hands of his father and knowing that he and Stefan had failed at saving Katherine. Stefan woke moments later, he too knowing his death came from Giuseppe and failure. Emily was nearby with their daylight rings, a gift from Katherine and another reminder of their failure.

As Damon sat near the water, working hard to remove a stain that would never come clean, his brother worked just as hard to convince him to transition. He wouldn't. The entire point of transitioning was to be with Katherine. Spending eternity with his brother wasn't the life he imagined or wanted. And to be honest, it was his fault that it ended this way. Gullible Stefan, always believing the best in everyone had honestly thought his father would give Katherine a reprieve?

Then Stefan dropped the biggest bomb of all. His ultimate life plan. "I need to transition, Damon, and I want you to because we need to find Abigail." His dark eyes shining in the morning light. Damon's head shot up. "She's going to be my wife. I promised her. And I want to make good on that promise."

Damon's eyes locked onto Stefan's. He remembered doing the unthinkable to Abigail. He'd KILLED her. Or at least attempted to. And then he'd locked her in a tomb. He pressed his face into his wet hands and prayed he was imagining the memory. Surely he'd never do that to his best friend. His eyes closed, he remembered his hands, the ones pressed against his face, closing around her impossibly small neck and squeezing. How he felt her stop breathing. How he watched as the life left her light green eyes. And how he carried her dainty body across the fields to the family crypt and slid her into his great grandfather's tomb and closed it. Locking her inside. Just to impress Katherine. He roared with pain.

He fought to recall their last conversation, but all he could remember was the dance at the party. They hadn't spoken, not beyond her agreement to dance with him. He squinted at the faultiness of his memory, of course they'd spoken since he'd returned. He sought her out and told her he was back. Surely they'd had moments. Surely. He glared at the emptiness. No, he'd danced with her and then he'd killed her.

He remembered her entering the house with his father the day after he'd done the unthinkable. Her covered in the dankness of death. And yet, she walked into the house with the carriage of a queen.

"No," he said, either to himself or to Stefan. "I won't." He shook his head. "Abi doesn't deserve to be visited by a monster." He turned his back to his traitorous brother. "She doesn't need us to ruin her future, brother. Especially since I've already tried to kill her once."

"She's immortal, Damon." Stefan said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Katherine tried to kill her twice." He was still standing, careful of the distance between the two of them. "Once when we couldn't find her, she broke her neck and left her in the gardens. She bragged to me and compelled me. I found her while you were were preoccupied with Katherine." Damon vaguely recalled coming down the stairs and seeing Abi in Stefan's arms. She'd looked so tiny and rumpled. "The second time was later that night. She ripped her throat out. She laughed so much about it, but her blood made Katherine sick." Stefan kept eye contact to prove he wasn't lying. "You couldn't have killed her, not even if you kept trying. Don't you see, Damon?"

No, he didn't see. Just because it didn't take didn't mean it hadn't hurt her. He wouldn't go back and face her.

Stefan was insane. She didn't deserve his pathetic attempts to make her happy. And how could he even try? He didn't know her. Had they even had a single true conversation? Did he know anything that she enjoyed? Did he know her favorite foods? Her favorite color? Her favorite flower? Did he know how to make her laugh?

He tried to make sense of why he didn't seek her out when he came home. Abigail had been the entire purpose of his leave. He'd done something to get that leave that would weigh on him nearly as heavily as what he'd done to her on that porch swing. Yet, he hadn't even said hello to her. He hadn't said anything up until an hour before he killed her.

Sighing, he fell back and stared at the clouds drifting across the sky. He wondered, for the very first time, where Abigail was at this very moment. He didn't hear his brother leave. He didn't care about Stefan. He didn't matter. Only Abigail did. And for the first time in weeks did his focus return to where it should have been all along.


	16. Chapter 16

Mystic Falls, VA September 26, 1864

Abigail gasped to wakefulness. Sallie hadn't gone to bed yet, and she was extremely happy to see her sitting beside her bed and fully conscious. As she looked around her room, she was relieved to see the windows closed.

"Sallie," she whispered. "I need you to listen to me very carefully."

Her companion was completely silent as she listened to the instructions her former mistress gave her. Some didn't make a great deal of sense, but she was coming to understand that when it came to Abigail Morgan, sometimes things didn't need to make sense to be important.

As Sallie left her bedroom to go downstairs and warn the servants of their impending visitor, Abigail got out of her bed. She put on her shoes and collected her thoughts. He was coming and he was going to try to get in the house.

What was the rule she'd heard once about vampires? If she was correct, and she hoped she was, telling Sallie to be sure that no servant invited him in was the first step. Keep him out. That was the first. Next was finding out if there were other safety nets.

She left the bedroom and realized that for mid-morning, it was far too quiet in the house. Nothing stirred, but she could see clearly downstairs. Taking a quiet breath and reminding herself that she couldn't die, she started to move down the stairs. She moved slowly, so she could assure herself that she made minimal noise.

As her feet touched the carpet of the first floor, she heard a sound. A quiet sound, as though someone was swallowing. She closed her eyes and took a moment to collect herself. Please, she thought, just let it be someone with a glass of water.

"Abigail?" Her heart dropped at the quiet voice beckoning to her from Giuseppe's office. It wasn't her adopted father. And it wasn't Damon. "Aren't you going to come and say hello, Abigail?"

She was terrified. Even without dying, she knew that whatever was waiting in that office was going to hurt. She also knew she couldn't stay in the foyer forever, tempting though it may be.

Her feet reluctantly pressed forward. She moved with the same slowness as she had come down the stairs, though this time it wasn't fear of noise that kept her back.

"Ah, Abigail," the voice pleaded, urging her on. "Come along, my darling." His voice was both mocking and longing, and that pressed down on her. It made moving harder. He had something waiting for her in that office to see.

Finally she reached the doorway, and there ablaze in living color was the horror she'd never remove from her memory. For Stefan Salvatore had not only ripped apart his father, but he'd also killed Sallie, and created a horrific tableau with her and his father and perhaps parts of other servants. The blood and gore covered ever part of the office, bathing the entirety in reds, pinks, and white. And before she could be overcome with the horror he was in front of her, coated in the blood of his father and her friend and smiling widely.

It was her last vision before she passed into unconsciousness, but it was the first time she wished for death. For dying would be better than whatever the Hell she was left in.


	17. Chapter 17

Mystic Falls, VA September 26, 1864

Damon was still lying beside the pool of water at Steven's Quarry when Stefan returned. He didn't bother sitting up, but did notice that his brother was carrying a small figure in his arms and a young woman obediently walked behind him. Clearly compelled, which meant that Stefan had transitioned.

He listened as his brother lay the burden he carried carefully down on the other side of the pool of water. Was he imagining the whispered words his brother was saying? Did he just hear him call the bundle Abigail?

Sitting up he glared across the water. The other figure still stood meekly nearby, waiting instructions. And Stefan, his blood doused brother, was stroking the long golden brown hair of the prone figure lying still beneath him.

"Did you call that thing Abigail?" Damon snarled. He didn't trust himself to move closer, if she were here, and his brother had done what neither Damon, nor Katherine had managed, then he didn't trust himself not to kill him. Or try to, seeing as Stefan was a vampire and Damon was adamant he wouldn't turn.

Stefan looked up from the small frame he was hovering over and met Damon's eyes. He was covered in gore. His face, his clothes, not a part of him didn't show a hint of blood. Damon resumed glaring. "Yes, brother, I called her Abigail. It is her name, after all." He moved so the light of the sun glowed across the face of the prone form.

Damon schooled his features to obscure his shock. It was Abigail. She was completely unconscious, Damon could hear her heartbeat, and see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. "What did you do, Stefan?" His voice came out as a low whisper, but he knew the monster that wore his brother's face heard him. He fought his anger at watching him stroke her hair out of her face, and straighten her blouse.

"I simply paid our father a visit, Damon." Stefan answered, conversationally. "We had a disagreement about the future, and then I realized that, after using his blood to transition; a poetic note, if I do say so, I should offer Abigail a gift to show that I meant to pay court to her." He smiled down at her pale face, ignoring that she was clearly so traumatized by this gift that she'd shut down. "I painted Father's room red, just for her. And then she came to me. And here we are." He said, as if that was all there could be. And disturbingly it seemed to be.

He wanted to yank Abigail's body away from his brother, and the touch of his bloodstained hand, but knew that he didn't have the strength for it. "And the other, your tag along?" He asked, gesturing to the young woman who still stood patiently waiting for some order of what she needed to do next.

Stefan gave his brother a roguish smile. "She's for you, brother." He stood up, stepping carefully away from Abigail and opening a hand to the young woman waiting. She stepped forward and took the offered hand. "You need to turn. Our new family needs you." He walked calmly around the pool of water toward his brother, the young woman in thralled tow. "I thought if I brought your drink to you, then this would be the easiest way to begin our new life."

Damon stood perfectly still. As Stefan and the young woman came ever closer, he knew that his brother was planning on taking the choice of transition away from him. He knew that waiting by the pool and mourning what could have been and what he should not have done had made him weak with thirst. It weakened his reservations, and now, as temptation crept ever closer, he knew that he wouldn't be able to say no. Or fight against what was coming.

Stopping in front of Damon, Stefan tilted the young woman's head, and presented her neck. When Damon made no move, he took a small knife from his pocket and cut her, just deep enough to make the flow begin, but enough to force Damon's thirst into action. He had her in his arms before the thought had taken root in his mind and he was drinking long and deep. The taste, so different from when he'd tasted Katherine's blood, urged him to drink on.

And as he drank, he watched his younger brother's eyes alight with pleasure, knowing he'd won. Seeing the confirmation that Stefan had gotten him to go against his own wishes, and that he had a powerless Abigail at his mercy, Damon made a vow to himself. He vowed to make Stefan pay for these sins. And if misery loves company, then he'd be sure that Stefan had more company than he could contend with.

The Salvatore House September 27, 1864

After Damon insisted on taking Abigail back to their former home and putting her to bed himself, the brothers began cleaning up Stefan's gift to the young woman. Damon was shocked at the amount of blood and gore that managed to coat every inch of the room his father had once called his own.

While Stefan took care of the larger body parts, removing them to the garden for a late evening bonfire, Damon found buckets and rags to clean up the more liquid damage. As they cleaned, Damon used the time to ask his brother of the plans he had for their 'family'.

"How exactly," Damon asked, pulling what he felt were intestines from a chandelier and placing them in a bucket, "does this new life work, brother? You marry Abigail and I do what exactly?"

Stefan was wiping down the surfaces that were skin, flesh, and organ free. As he worked he answered. "Yes, we marry, and you are our brother. As you've been all these years, Damon." He had found a piece of flesh he'd missed before, tossing it in a bucket, he glanced up at his brother. "Unless you have a problem or another plan?"

There was a challenge in the question that Damon did not answer. Instead he moved on, "And we stay here, in Mystic Falls? Word must be out that we're dead, Stefan." He had picked up a rag and was trying to remove more gore. It seemed like a never ending battle. "Unless part of your plan for vengeance includes Mystic Falls becoming a ghost town, Population: 3."

Stefan sighed, and looked around the room. "No, it doesn't. I think that eventually, after Abigail awakens, and we're married, then we can leave." He said. "I do mean that you are a vital part of our family, Damon." He meant it, Damon realized, as warped as he was he meant it when he said they'd all live happily together.

"What if she doesn't wake up?" Damon asked, the thought scared him, but he was curious as to whether Stefan had a plan for that inevitably.

Stefan glared at the mere conjecture that he'd be denied his desire. "Then I find a way to make her wake up." He said, and a chill ran down Damon's back.


	18. Chapter 18

Mystic Falls, VA September 28, 1864

"She's been unconscious for too long, Stefan." Damon said, glaring at his brother over the corpses that he'd lined the dining room with. "And you eat like a pig."

Stefan looked up from another drained body, and gave a self satisfied smile. "And you're far too judgmental." He dropped the body with a loud thud. "I'll clean the mess in a moment." He rolled his eyes and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin that Damon had dropped in front of him. "As for Abigail, I agree, she has been out for far too long. I think I should run up and check on her." He stood, but before he could flash away with his knew speed, Damon stopped him.

"Let's both go," he offered, still not trusting his gluttonous brother. Well fed or not, Stefan was dangerous. He was on a rampage against the Founding Families, having already begun to scratch names off his list. Together they ascended the stairs to Abigail's bedroom.

Inside her room, they found her the same as when Damon had put her there. She was lying in the center of her bed, pillow carefully under her head, hair fanned out, with her blankets pulled up under her arms. She looked peaceful. Her eyes were closed and she seemed for all the world to be resting peacefully. She was clearly breathing, and she didn't seem to be in distress. So why was he so worried?

They stepped further into the room and looked around for a place to sit. There was a chair by the bed, which Stefan readily took. Damon, daring his brother's wrath, sat on the bed.

He smiled when he remembered coming into this room when she'd first come to live with them.

It had been a stormy night and she'd been having bad dreams. Not the dark ones that came with her premonitions, just the usual bad dreams that children have. Especially children who just had a tragic event, such as a horrific house fire which killed and destroyed her entire world.

Damon had been walking past her room after having another altercation with his father when he heard her cry out. Her door was ajar, so he'd walked closer. Through the slit, he'd seen her sitting up and crying. Knocking quietly, she had just as quietly granted him entry.

He'd held her and told her fairy tales and silly stories until the fear ran away with the storm. They laid in this bed, cuddled together among pillows and blankets, and held each other until both of them felt better. He from his father's violent displeasure, and she from unnamed night terror.

"You're smiling," Stefan observed.

Damon nodded, and looked to where his brother sat on the other side of Abigail's bed. "Yes, I am. I was remembering another time in this room." He gave a sniff. "I held her in this bed once." He saw Stefan give an angry twitch. "We were children, Stefan, and it was only for comfort."

"Ah," his brother said, calming. "I didn't know."

What you don't know about her could fill an ocean, Damon thought, but he said nothing.

Abigail could hear nothing of the men at her bedside. She was still fighting for control of her own body, and her own consciousness. Coming back was imperative, she felt, yet she couldn't seem to rise to the surface of the pain and terror she'd experienced from seeing the brothers die, and then Stefan's horrific stage show.

Some piece of her knew that the pain and terror, and her inability to fully process how she felt about all of it was keeping her trapped inside herself. She couldn't really work through how to make peace with any of it. Try as she might, no lesson from her papa came to her that would deal with how to make sense of seeing two people die at the hands of someone close to them, nor what to do when one of them then rips that person and an entire houseful of staff apart just to create some ambiance.

She felt a sharp stab as pure grief and pain pierced her heart. Abigail wondered when God or whomever was in charge of the balance of nature would decide that she'd paid her dues. Was the cost so high because she couldn't die, she wondered. Or was it because she refused to give in to the path that her parents, and her guardian had chosen?

As a woman, she'd been told her entire life to follow the rules. And the rules were that she had to give herself over to whatever the adults in her life dictated. The male adults especially. Yet, when given the plans for her marriage, instead of meekly following the path, she'd negotiated. She attempted to act against the laws of nature, as she'd been taught. Was this her punishment?

Damon was looking at Abi's face when a tear escaped the corner of her eye. He allowed himself a glance out of the corner of his eye at his brother to see if he'd noticed, but luckily Stefan was reading a book he'd found on her bedside table. Hazarding more wrath from the unhinged, he allowed his hand to find Abigail's on the bed where he'd rested it when he'd laid her down.

As his fingertips barely touched her skin, he felt the darkness pull him. It was crushing and suffocating. All of his power was used to not make a sound, as he felt her pain and suffering flow around him. Her anguish at seeing his father shoot each of them in the heart, he could hear the echo of the heart rendering scream she'd released when she'd seen the vision. He felt his own tear fall. And then, before he could pull away, away from the crushing anguish, he saw her slowing move toward his father's office as his brother baited her with whispered words. He urged her silently to stay in her room, knowing it was futile. He felt her utter helpless terror as she saw the monster waiting surrounded by all the gore he'd helped clean up, somehow made more terrible through her eyes.

Damon moved his fingers from hers and willed his secondhand grief and pain away. She was trapped for now, trying to make sense of so much pain and suffering. He needed to think of how to make it better. And soon, because he couldn't leave her to the whims of Stefan. She was in this state due to a great part because of him.

As his mind tried to think of a way to fix Abigail's predicament, he didn't notice that his brother had been paying attention. He'd seen his brother's fingertips brush Abigail's, and the tears that played on his face. What was this, the Ripper felt curious. Simple sentimentality, or had Damon learned why Abigail was locked away from her destiny as Stefan's bride?


	19. Chapter 19

Mystic Falls, VA September 28, 1864~Late evening

They'd left Abigail's bedside after an hours long vigil that hadn't changed her state. Although Damon had seen a few more tears escape, he hadn't attempted to touch her hand again. He wouldn't chance his brother's wrath, not until he knew he could do something to fix the mess they'd created.

While Stefan left to create another bonfire with his dinner scraps, Damon considered who he knew that could shed any light on Abigail's current state. The only person remotely knowledgeable about the supernatural still available in Mystic Falls, who did not want Damon and his brother dead on sight, would be Emily Bennett. Unfortunately, he wasn't completely sure where she would have headed after giving Stefan and him their daylight rings.

Contemplating the options of a witch connected to a known vampire, he realized hiding in plain site was probably her best option. He went into what was once his father's office, and was now his brother's room of revenge. Stefan kept a list of the Founders' that he'd exacted vengeance upon. Damon theorized that the family not on the list was probably protected by Emily. A witch with things to hide, could hide entire families.

He found Stefan's list and fought down his stomach's lurching. Scanning the names, he found one family missing. Neither crossed out, nor waiting to be. And in that, he knew where Emily was.

Damon decided to wait until midnight to go to the house in search of Emily. Stefan would be preoccupied with three or four dinner companions, after having crossed a name or two off his list. That would give him time to have a nice conversation with Emily, unhurried and without fear of being spied upon.

As he left their house, Stefan offered him a young lady who bore a disturbing resemblance to Abigail for a drink. Damon glared at his brother before he could stop himself. Did he even realize how disturbed he was? Did he think it was amusing? Or was it a test? His eyes locked on to his brother's and he realized the latter was most likely true.

Smirking with the irritation of an older brother being interrupted from his night out, Damon took the girl in his arms and tried to forget what made her look like Abigail. Focus, he told himself, on what wasn't. As he leaned in to drink, his new stronger senses took over and cataloged all the differences. The hair was a shade darker, her scent was wrong, her eyes more blue than green, and she was inches taller. He drank sparingly, enough to make Stefan happy, but not enough to kill the girl.

Handing her back, and wiping his mouth on his handkerchief, he moved toward the door. "Thank you, brother." He said, trying to keep his tone light. "Now I can be focused while I hunt for a more fulfilling meal."

"Why leave, brother?" Stefan taunted, pulling the poor exchange for Abigail firmly against his chest. "I brought more than enough to share." He leaned toward the girl and began to bite.

"I have plans," Damon said, tearing his eyes away, trying to get the image out of his head. "I'll be back later. Don't wait up."

He left then, trying to forget the sound of the girl crying as his brother tore at her throat, because of all the ways she was different from Abigail, that was the way they were most similar. Their voices, she hadn't spoke when he bit her, but as he walked out of the front door, she was begging Stefan to make the pain stop. To let her die. And in that voice, he heard Abigail.

Outside the house that Emily had taken refuge, Damon waited. Although midnight, he knew that the Bennett witch kept her own hours. As he watched, she exited the back door and made her way across the lawns, he followed keeping his distance until they were away from the lights of the house. Once that only a sliver of moon lit them, he let her know for certain he was behind her.

She nodded and led him to a copse of trees just off the road nearest the house where she was staying. Inside the circle, he waited as she whispered an incantation, knowing that she was hiding them from prying eyes.

"Hello, Emily." He said, when she finished. Her head tilt was the only answer he received, so he continued. "I assume you know about Stefan's current destructive path." When she again said nothing, he kept going. "Abigail is at the house as well."

"Abigail?" She whispered, confused. "She was supposed to leave." Her brow furrowed. "Her baggage, everything is gone."

He looked down, knowing all of this mess started when Emily's mistress had moved in. "She didn't. When I killed her," his voice grew quiet, "and buried her, she decided against leaving. She had missed the coach and ship. My father and Abigail, when he found her in our family tomb, they became closer." His eyes burned thinking about how affectionate they'd seemed when they entered the house not two days before. "She was staying."

Emily sighed and shook her head in angry frustration. "The imbalance in this town, and in nature is so great already, it's creating massive chaos." She glared at Damon. "Your brother, he wants what he cannot have. She is what he cannot hope to have." She was clenching her hands so tightly that her nails were biting into the palms, and blood was beginning to rise to the surface. "Where is she now?"

Damon looked up and she could see the pain and anguish in his eyes. "In her bedroom, she hasn't been awake since my brother ripped apart our father and every slave and Sallie and created something theatrical to show his affection." He was angry and felt horrible. "It was too much for her, Emily. I felt it," he didn't understand how it worked but tried to explain the shared feelings through the touching he'd done.

Emily nodded. "Perhaps it's best Abigail stay in the state she's in," she said, still tense. "If he cannot force her to make a choice, through horrific means, then she's safe."

Damon considered it, but feared that Abigail wouldn't withstand being terrorized by her own pain and grief on repeat. "She's trapped in darkness, Emily. All she has is the memories of the last terrors she felt and experienced. How is that better?"

The witch began pacing within their circle of trees. She was trying to decide how to make Abigail's "sleep" easier. Could she create a room, much like her own bedroom, that Abigail could "live" in until Stefan could be contained? She would have to contact the ancients, and it would take a day or two fully create the spell, but she realized one more issue.

"Damon, if I could create something to replace the darkness, her body would still be at his mercy." She looked at the Salvatore in front of her and saw the dawning of fear fall over him as well. "Where would you hide her?"

Damon knew it wouldn't be simple, but keeping Abigail out of his brother's insane clutches had to be given at least a try. He was thinking even as they both began pacing, their thoughts working toward the same goal, with different parts to plan.


	20. Chapter 20

Mystic Falls, VA September 30, 1864

Emily had figured out how to create a small world within their own. It would, she hoped, give Abigail some measure of peace. At least until Damon or someone could figure out what made Stefan Salvatore's mind go from a deep soulful man, to a raging monster. Emily understood the monstrosity that vampire blood lust could cause, but nothing like this.

Usually when a vampire was turned, all the traits that they had as a human were amplified. If that vampire had been kind and thoughtful, then those traits passed on at a greater pitch. The same could be said for pettiness, cruelty, and manipulation. Just look at Katherine Pierce.

Nothing had warned them that this part existed within Stefan Salvatore. It caught them unawares. And because of that, no one had been prepared for his savagery, or his obsessions, or his complete disregard for human life. Now they were trying desperately to cauterized the wounds.

As Emily had worked to perform the most difficult spell work of her life, Damon was working just as hard to find a place to hide Abigail when the time came. He knew that Mystic Falls had to do, but where within the town borders would suffice? His brother knew the land as well as he did. Aside from another crypt, which having used it once before, he didn't dare try again, Damon wasn't sure he knew of another place.

He was in Abigail's bedroom, with his damnable brother keeping vigil again, this time walking around taking stock of how right Emily was in the lack of possessions visible. That's when he came across a stack of papers on her vanity. Glancing down, he realized it was a list of household goods, things needed to set up house. And that's when he knew that the place he could keep her and his brother would never look for her had been easily accessible all along. Her house. Of course.

When Abigail's body disappeared, which would happen very soon, Stefan's rage would be terrible. Terrible, but impotent to find her, because Damon was absolutely certain that while he may consider her being hidden in the new house, he'd quickly dismiss it. Nothing tied her to it, and nothing tied Damon or anyone else to it either. And, if Damon recalled correctly, there were very deep cellars in that house. Not a permanent space to keep her, but temporarily it would do.

Emily was waiting in the copse of trees for him that evening. They couldn't wait for midnight. They had to get everything taken care of so Abigail would be moved and safe before morning. In Emily's hand she held a slim silver chain, so thin it looked like thread and from it dangled a single pale bluish-green bead. Both were very simple, yet very powerful.

She explained to Damon that she wouldn't enter his house, and that he would have to do the rest alone. She'd heard the family she'd taken refuge with muttering. Someone was making noise about dark magic and it was making those who trusted her look twice. Emily was growing fearful, but she had nowhere to go. Entering the Salvatore home was a certain death sentence, however, and she refused.

"Put this around her neck, or even wrapping it around her wrist will work. That will allow her to find the room I've created." She was saying. "The peace will make moving her easier. You will not be bogged down by the pain that you felt radiating from her before." She smiled, hopeful. "Get her to the place you've planned and by this time tomorrow, she'll have the peace that is so removed from her."

Damon held the chain in his hand and prayed as he never had before. Even as a monster, he felt like he needed more faith now than ever. Getting her out of the house, even with Stefan out on a hunting and gathering mission, would take a miracle.

He nodded to her, letting her know he understood. "Thank you, Emily." He looked up at her and vowed to give her anything she ever wanted.

"Keep Abigail Morgan safe." She said, surprising them both. "I don't know what she is, or who she becomes, but she needs to be kept away from your brother. At least until you find what has made him contrary to his natural state." They stared at each other for a beat. "Promise me."

"With my life." He said, and then he was gone.

Stefan was having a party when he returned. Closing his eyes, Damon swore under his breath. Of course Stefan would choose tonight to revel in debauchery. Entering the front door, he noticed that his brother appeared to be holding back from killing anyone thus far. Restraint was a new trait for Stefan, he thought.

"Welcome home, brother!" Stefan bellowed from his position between two buxom women seated upon the settee that Abigail had used to recline and read during days with weather too cold to enjoy the garden. It was jarring how often these memories of days gone by were coming to him, and he had to pull himself from the image to answer.

"And what a welcome it is," Damon responded, taking in the bodies in various stages of undress, and the telltale signs of his brother's feedings. "I see you've decided to have a celebration."

Stefan smiled and untangled himself from his companions. "I am. Consider this my stag night." He wagged his eyebrows suggestively and Damon's stomach twisted. "After tonight, I'll focus on waking my beautiful bride and we'll be planning our wedding." The blood on his lips was still wet, and he licked it with relish. "Come have a drink to celebrate the end of being a single man."

Damon hoped that his face was doing a better job of hiding his disgust than his internal thoughts were. Did his brother know of the plans he'd made with Emily? Is that what brought this grotesque show?

"Are you feeling alright, brother?" Stefan asked, feigning a look of concern in his eyes. "You don't look like you want to celebrate." His lips drooped into a pout.

"I think I'll pass, brother." Damon answered, sidestepping a grasping human, clearly compelled to want to be a feeder. "All I want is an early night. And I can't believe that my absence will make your celebration less enjoyable." He turned from the sight that greeted him upon his return. "Goodnight."

"Sweet dreams, Damon." Stefan mocked, pulling another woman to him as he fell back on the settee. "I'll see you in the morning, when we wake up Abigail." The laughter and squeals followed him up the stairs.


	21. Chapter 21

Mystic Falls, VA September 30, 1864

Damon went straight to Abigail's bedroom. He waited outside the door, which stood open, and listened to his brother's activities downstairs. Stefan was having his playthings play some type of game, and he was making the rules. Feeling it was safe to enter, he crossed the threshold.

Abigail was still in the same position. He'd come to expect it, but it was no easier to see. Her face shown with the signs that she'd been crying. Clearly no peace or progress had been made since the morning. He made no noise as he crossed to the bed. Looking down at her slight form, at the honey brown curls fanned across her pillows, he prayed once more that the plan would work.

With his finger, he traced an errant curl, allowing himself the comfort of its silkiness. Then he steeled himself to begin. First the chain. He pulled it from his pocket and decided her wrist was the simplest course for the moment. Taking her hand in his, he gently wrapped the delicate chain around her thin wrist. It circled three times, and he made certain that it was secure and that the small bead was tight against her skin.

Lowering the sleeve of her blouse over her new jewelry, in case his brother happened to come in, he considered the best path out of the house and to hers. Listening he could tell that the games were still being played downstairs, musical chairs from the sounds of it, although more like musical Stefan. Dear brother was still occupied, so Damon thought the servants' tight back stairway, that led to the back porch would be best. It was dark, and tight, but with his advanced senses, he could make easy work of it.

He carefully uncovered her and took in the full sight of her for what felt like the first time. He had to silent the urge to run his hand down the smooth curve of her cheek, to hold her head in his hand and beg her to wake up. Damon had to remind himself that part of why she was in this state was because of him. He had to remember killing her in vivid detail, of how good it made him feel. Of how proud he had been to bury her.

Moving his arms under her arms and legs, he carefully picked her up. It reminded him of when he'd seen Stefan with her, after she'd been missing. He'd been up here, on this floor having an assignation with Katherine and they'd come downstairs laughing at their time spent cloistered away, when he'd seen everyone gathered below. Abigail in Stefan's arms, like a bride being carried over the threshold of her new home. And now it was his turn, only she wasn't awake, and while it was her home he was carrying her to, she wouldn't be a happy bride. She'd be a hidden treasure, from a horrible monster.

Emily's spell worked. Damon realized as he carried her down the tight servants' stairway and out into the darkness. When he did brush her skin, the overwhelming pain and angst wasn't there. There was grief, but it was nowhere near what it had been before. He rushed to her house, reaching it in no time, but then realizing the blunder in the plan.

"I haven't been invited in." He whispered, as his foot refused to pass beyond the door that had opened easily when the key he'd found in her vanity turned in the lock.

He was still holding her, still thinking as the fear set in. Stefan wouldn't be diverted forever, or even for the rest of the night. And standing on the huge porch of Abigail's future home would not work as a great hiding spot. Think, Damon, think.

His hand brushed hers and he saw a flash of a room and her hair. Gasping, he moved his hand to hers again. There she was, in a room that bore a remarkable resemblance to the room they'd just abandoned. Abigail was pacing, much like Damon and Emily had while considering their path forward. She was confused, that much was clear, but she was also agitated.

"Abigail," he breathed, and was surprised when she turned to face him. Her confusion changed to fear at the sight of him. He should have expected that reaction if she ever saw him again. "You can see me?"

She took a nervous step back and found herself against the fireplace. Her eyes were wide with fright and he wanted to assure her that he meant no harm, but he also needed to figure out a path into her house. Please, he thought, let this work.

"Abi," he said, "I'm outside your house and I'm carrying you to safety. I can't go inside, please invite me in." She was still staring at him and he watched as she ran the meaning of his words through her mind.

"You're one of them." She said, disgust evident. "Killing me wasn't enough, burying me didn't cause enough damage?" She stared him straight in the eyes. "Now you want access into my home?"

He closed his eyes, trying to listen for dangers in the real world while staying with her in the room. "I am as you say. Please know, Abigail, that I have to hide you. The only place safe is your house. The very proof is that you have to give permission to enter. You are unconscious, and he won't have access to ask."

She paled and he knew that she understood that he had meant Stefan. "How am I in this room? And how can you be here as well?"

He groaned, time was of the utmost importance. "I will answer any question you have for me, I swear it, but invite me in the house, Abigail."

She nodded, and he tried to push his foot over the entryway, nothing happened. Swearing, he had to tell her, "it has to be verbal, out loud." He waited.

"Damon Salvatore, please come into my home." She whispered, still terrified, but more afraid of his brother after what she'd seen in the office.

He crossed the doorway and removed the key from the lock. Holding her body tightly, he closed and locked the door. He'd already picked the cellar, but knowing that Abigail had to give verbal permission to gain entrance, he decided she deserved better accommodations.

Carrying her up the grand staircase, he looked through open doors until he found one that suited the woman in his arms. With some luck, there was a chest that held linens, and he made it around her prone form. Careful to position her in what he hoped would be a comfortable position, he held her hand and followed through on his promise. He told her how her mental prison had changed.

And then, before the sun had begun to peak over the horizon, he told her he had to go. Stefan would be ready to wake his bride, and he had to go act surprised that she'd escaped his clutches.


	22. Chapter 22

Mystic Falls, VA October 3, 1864

For three days Stefan had raged. The house was a bloody mess, first from the ill-fated stag party, then from the days he'd spent raging about losing Abigail. Damon took heart that he seemed to believe him when he swore that he'd been asleep upstairs, and had heard and seen nothing.

Damon had had the foresight to rid Abigail's room of any belongings she had left after her planned flight from home. Her shoes, books, vanity set, and other odds and ends were gone. He made sure of it. Only the stack of notes were left. He felt sure that Abigail would have left those behind if she'd fled on her own.

When they had entered her room, Stefan particularly excited, the next morning. Seeing her bed, remade and empty, he'd rushed through the house, certain she was awake and readying herself for him. Delusional didn't begin to cover his brother. Room to room, stepping lightly over the drained bodies of his party favors from the prior night, he alternated between screaming her name and calling to her as a long lost lover might.

Damon followed, seemingly checking each room, and calling out for Abigail as well. He was waiting for the inevitable suggestion. Stefan to say they should go door to door, but it didn't come until the next night. They stalked through the town, checking every house, every storefront, every church, and tomb. Damon would have laughed, at his knowing Stefan's mind so well, had he not seen the fervor of obsession still raging in his eyes.

"Her house," Stefan offered, this very morning. "We haven't gone there, and it's the only place left."

Damon nodded his agreement. "You're right, brother, we haven't. Are you sure she'd bother going there? It's not like it has happy memories." He asked, curious why he'd finally focused his attention there.

His brother let out a hot breath. "No, but she was planning on moving there. Father, promised to allow it." He growled low and dark. "Perhaps she's retreated there to consider the future?"

Always back to his hatred for their father. "Then let's go." He stood up. "We'll check the house, and if she's there, we'll bring her back." He kept eye contact with his insane little brother. "And if she isn't you'll need to think of new places. Because after her house, nowhere in Mystic Falls has been left unchecked." He let the facts settle, and Stefan rose to his feet.

"Then we find out where she was planning on traveling to." He said with firm resignation. "I'll find her if I have to transverse the globe, brother."

Damon's stomach wrenched. Had he been this obsessed with Katherine? Seeing his hands clench around Abigail's throat and then him lightly tossing her body on top of the moldering remains of his ancestor he realized the truth. What had set him free? Her death? According to Emily Bennett, Katherine wasn't dead, she was simply on hold. Out of sight out of mind should be fixing Stefan. Why wasn't it?

As they walked, slowly since it was broad daylight and they were trying to look like regular people on this strange stretch of road, Damon contemplated the difference between his obsession with Katherine and Stefan's with Abigail.

He often bragged that Katherine didn't have to compel him to drink her blood, that he chose to. That was true, as was the fact that he'd killed for her. Not just the attempt on Abigail, but he'd helped her with ruses against multiple victims. He'd told himself they were teaching exercises, for when he'd be her immortal partner, but looking back were they? He'd been so obsessed that he'd promised Emily that he would protect her descendants.

While he was focused on Abigail's plight right now, would that obsession return once he knew she was safe? If he watched the fervor disappear from Stefan's eyes, would he return to making it his life's mission to find her and make her whole again? He'd killed someone he loved for her. He hadn't known it wouldn't be permanent, that by some miracle of nature she'd survive. He had nearly made it a cycle of eternal torture by entombing her. This was the result of his obsessive love for Katherine.

Abigail's house loomed ahead of them. In the brilliance of the morning, the white of the outside was nearly blinding. Columns rose from the porch to the roof and its opulence was humbling. The only color that broke against the white was the deepest black. The front door, the frames of the windows, and shutters were all dark as a night without stars or moonlight. They stepped onto the porch and Stefan pulled out the key that Damon had made sure turned up in their father's desk drawer.

He slipped it into the door and turned the lock. The door swung open on quiet hinges, and they stood waiting. "Abigail?" Stefan asked, his voice loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to be considered yelling. "Are you in there Abigail?"

There were no sounds from within. The brothers on the porch couldn't even hear the sound of breathing. Damon smiled and offered a silent thank you to Emily for that hidden spell effect. For any vampire or human who came to this house, without going room to room, it was empty. Stefan tried to cross the threshold and was blocked. "Dammit. I haven't been invited." He glanced at his brother.

"No," Damon answered the silent question. "I haven't been here before either." He stepped forward and faked the same issue. "See? No invitation. Without Abigail we can't enter."

Stefan stepped away from the door, which thankfully hadn't opened so far that they couldn't reclose it. He walked the perimeter of the house and realized that there were no signs anyone had come or gone from the house in months. It was being kept up, but not as though being lived in. Another false lead.

Growling deep in his throat, Stefan vowed that somehow, someday he would find Abigail Morgan. And she would become his bride.


	23. Chapter 23

Magically Created Room~ Date Unknown

Abigail sat at a vanity that looked almost identical to the one in the bedroom she'd occupied in the Salvatore house. Almost.

Her vanity had a nick on the right hand side, right where the drawer met the top. She'd accidentally created it with her silver hand mirror during an argument with Damon when she was fifteen. What had that argument been about? Ah, yes, because she was in midst of her courses and he didn't understand the necessity of knocking before entering her room. She'd grown so angry that she'd attempted to put away her mirror and slammed the drawer shut at the same time.

There had also been a burn mark on the top left side near the standing mirror. Sallie created that scar during an ill-fated attempt to create more tamed curls. She'd left a borrowed "curl" iron in the fire too long, and the upon the vanity even longer. Abigail hadn't thought she'd ever get the burnt wood smell out of her nose or clothes.

There were other inconsistencies, little telltale signs that the room was simply a slight of hand and only done by someone with the briefest glimpses of her real domain. The stack of books by the bed, she had been quite relieved to see were real books, just not the ones she had picked. The clothes that were hanging and the shoes offered were also similar, but not quite the same. They were more closely what Katherine had found attractive than what she would have chosen, but since Emily Bennett had put all of this together it made some sense.

She was still replaying her conversation with Damon through her mind. Although technically this room was her mind, so where was she really replaying his conversation? Just trying to figure out that puzzle was enough to make her dizzy. She sat back in her chair and contemplated their discussion, if you could call it that.

He had answered her questions. About the room, and as much as he could understand about being in the room with her. They discussed Stefan's obsession with taking her to wed. Damon told her about him carrying her to Steven's Quarry and using her to help push him to turn. They spoke about the bracelet she now wore, and how it would help her stay in the carefully constructed room, keeping her safe from Stefan and her own pain and grief. Allowing her to come to terms with it at her own pace. As he readied to leave he told her something that terrified her more than finding him in this place asking her to allow him access to her one sanctuary.

"I don't know when or if I can come back, Abigail." He said, meeting her eyes across the length of the room. "He will rage when he learns you're gone. And he'll watch me for signs I have taken you or that I know where you are." He let that knowledge settle on her. "I will try, but I cannot make a promise I have no way of knowing if I can keep."

She realized that this room, a poor imitation for the one she'd lived in for five years, surrounded by nothing would be her prison. And she may never learn of a way out of it on her own. If she couldn't find a path through her pain and loss, if she couldn't learn to control her overwhelming fear of the man in front of her and his brother, then would leaving matter? However, learning that the only person that she knew for certain could communicate with her may never come back, that drew her anxiety ever nearer. She knew he was right though, Stefan must not know where she was.

She nodded, not trusting her own voice. Abigail couldn't say goodbye, not even to her attempted murderer. Not when it may be the last thing she ever said to anyone. She turned away to face the fireplace, and as Damon released her hand, he would swear he heard her thank him.

Mystic Falls, VA October 1864

Someone had outed Emily Bennett as a witch. While Mayor Lockwood and Giuseppe Salvatore had witnessed her locator spell during Abigail's time in the crypt, they had an understanding about keeping it quiet. Both had reasons to keep the young witch as an ally, and neither would have allowed anything happen to her, regardless of her otherworldly talents.

With Giuseppe's disappearance and the mayor having more fires to put out than the one in Fells' Church, the whispers grew until a mob mentality formed and the calls for her death were deafening. It was too late by the time the news reached Damon for him to concoct a way to save the young witch, and so, on a horrible day in October, she was burned for her alleged crimes. He watched from the shadows, feeling increasingly like a failure.

He couldn't save Emily. He had hidden Abigail, but couldn't find a way to visit her again. His brother was still manic with his obsession for Abi, and he spoke of nothing besides finding her and feeding. He couldn't see a way past his brother's thirst, for either Abigail or blood and revenge. And so, daily he felt like the tally of his failures was multiplying.

He had taken to walking the boundary of Mystic Falls, daring nothing more than a skirting of Abigail's house. He knew that Stefan watched him, even if he couldn't see him. Stefan made cryptic comments, about how beautiful the leaves looked turning so orange and burnt near the cemetery, after Damon had been that route just hours earlier. Or when he mentioned how the caretakers of the Fells' homestead were slacking, since the fence line was broken on the eastern border. That was mentioned when he'd taken a shortcut on the way home, taking him past the Fells' property on just that side. The warning was clear. He was being watched.

He couldn't chance another trip to Abigail's. It didn't matter that he yearned to check in and be certain that her new lodgings were doing her well being better than before. And he needed to say goodbye, because he would find a way to get Stefan to leave the town. His revenge and blood lust were going to get them both hunted down.

Respite came in the latter part of November. Her name was Lexi Branson. Stefan had come across her during one of his many hunting trips. She had expected a larger vampire population in Mystic Falls, the news of the burning of Fells' Church not being widespread. Instead she found the population of two, Damon and Stefan Salvatore.

Lexi, not so different from Damon, was appalled by Stefan's feeding practices. She agreed that he seemed to have obsessive tendencies, but while Damon cleaned up the messes and goaded with words and irritation, Lexi went a different route. Soon Stefan was distracted by Lexi and Damon found time to visit Abigail for a second time.

He'd barely touched her hand and said hello before Abigail had inundated him with questions. She wanted to know the date. She was curious about the things she'd missed, if Emily had given him any hints or clues to the lock that kept her in her new world. He considered her questions and tried to answer them as best as he could.

"As a vampire," he noticed her flinch at the distinction of his new species. "The days blur, but it's the end of November, 1864."

As for what she had missed, the list was vast. He admitted it had taken so long between visits due to Stefan's rage, not only because of her disappearance but also in reaction to Katherine's treatment by the town and his father. He'd already killed the Fells and attempted to kill Johnathan Gilbert, Damon wasn't entirely sure why Johnathan wasn't dead.

Keeping his eye on the rug by her bed, because what he was about to share, he admitted that Emily Bennett had been burned for a witch by the townspeople. Before she'd died, while they were creating a way to keep her safe from Stefan, all that she'd told him about Abigail's situation was that she could leave when the time was right. Unfortunately she'd given him no way to gauge that time. His tone was apologetic and she tried to keep hers light when she asked him if there was anything else.

"Stefan's made a friend," he offered, looking up. "She's like us. Although I think you might like her, if you'd had a chance to meet her under normal circumstances."

Her sniff in answer told him different. He contemplated how long he'd been gone. Even with Lexi as a distraction he couldn't afford to be missed. She sensed it because her next question shocked them both.

"Are you coming back?" She asked in a tone of fear mixed with hope.

He had to admit to not knowing again. "It depends, Abigail. Lexi distracts him, but he's still obsessed with you. I can't chance he'll follow me."

She nodded, not looking up. And once again he left without either saying goodbye.


	24. Chapter 24

Mystic Falls, VA November 1864

Lexi Branson was horrified by the young vampire she'd met when coming to Mystic Falls. Stefan Salvatore was the definition of monster. He piled bodies up in the dining room of his family's mansion and he obsessed about the death of one woman and the search for another. Obsession seemed to be the word that best described him.

She'd attempted to take him under her tutelage. Teaching him that death and destruction were not the only pieces of the puzzle of vampirism. His brother, far from helping her with the tendencies of his younger sibling, was clinging to his own petty anger at losing the same two women. He blamed Stefan for his plight. For losing Katherine Pierce to his father and the town's fear, for losing Abigail Morgan to whatever took her from them, and then for forcing him to transition against his wishes. Being around the two of them was exhausting.

She was finding that with Stefan, using Abigail as a carrot before the horse was working. Making him consider the man she'd want to be tied to in holy matrimony, and holding a mirror, both literally and figuratively up for him to see the Ripper he'd become. It was the first in a turning point for him. Not the fullest, but it was a start.

January 1865~ The New Year, Mystic Falls, VA

Damon grew tired of his new life. Being tethered to a brother who knew no boundaries, and a town that was no longer home to him was torture. Knowing that Lexi was willing to continue to badger Stefan into some semblance of his former self and watching the slight progress she'd already made, helped him decide. He was leaving. Without Stefan, because he was certain that his brother would never gain access to her where she currently lay.

Lexi caught him as he was leaving and it forced a confession from him. While asking her to do her best by his lost brother. Help him find a way out of the destruction he was so hellbent on rendering, he ignored her pleas to take part and stay. He knew she thought he was selfish and petty. He didn't care. He was finished. Tired of seeing bodies piled high, blood everywhere, the screams of the victims. He couldn't stay and live it any longer.

Before leaving Mystic Falls, he had one goodbye left. And so, taking the same path he took the night of his brother's dark stag party, he returned to Abigail's house. Crossing the threshold of a carefully unlocked backdoor, one he would be sure to secure upon leaving, he made his way up the stairs.

Darkness was complete around him, yet he knew the way as though he'd been along this path a million times, and in truth he had. In dreams he'd transverse the grounds, the stairs, the hallway and walked to sit with her even when he couldn't be there in person. And there she was, not even partially lit with moonbeams, but still he took a moment to drink in the true vision of her form before reaching out and finally taking her hand.

"Hello, Abigail." He greeted his former best friend. She was seated by the window, having re-positioned a chair there to read. She looked up and he noticed that she was schooling her fear for him into a semi-forced smile.

"Damon," she answered, carefully marking her spot with a slip of silk ribbon. She sat her book on the window sill. "I'm not sure if you've only just visited or if it's been longer." The irritation at her own confusion of the movement of time flashed across her face. "Regardless, thank you for coming back."

She gestured for him to take a seat on her carefully made bed. Damon sat and realized that this farewell would be particularly difficult. She would be left completely alone here in a prison and he had no idea if or when she'd be free. He couldn't make himself look at her, so he looked around her room searching for topics to focus on instead.

"Have you redecorated?" He asked, noticing slight changes and wondering how.

She smiled shyly. "Yes, a bit." Standing she walked into his path of vision. "I'm not entirely sure how it works, but I focused on parts of the room that weren't quite right." Moving closer than either of them expected, she tapped the quilt he was seated on. "When your mother gave me my bed linens, she told me a story about this quilt. It was her family's wedding ring quilt. It was always meant to pass from mother to daughter and since she only had you and Stefan, she believed she would be cursed to wait until one of you married to allow a daughter to sleep beneath it. And then I came to live with your family-" She stopped, knowing he understood. "The room felt wrong without it." She sat beside him and pointed out a few other changes. "The colors of my vanity set were off, they were too dark, so I fixed it. And the clothes," she said, with a sigh, knowing she'd drawn his attention to her fully. "Emily was used to dressing someone else. I needed my own style."

Damon had been watching everything she'd shown him. When she'd sat down next to him, he'd gone perfectly still. Her scent, even in this magically created world, was overwhelming. And how could he feel the heat from her body? Hearing the story of the quilt, he thought about how he could have made both his mother and her happy had he just not gone away in the first place. How he would have made himself happy. Would they have spent their first night as newlyweds under this very blanket? What he felt for her wasn't the same as the thirst that drove him when he was near humans. When he heard their heartbeat, and could smell and feel the rush of the blood flowing in their veins, it called to him. This, what he was feeling for Abigail in her created world, was what he'd felt before leaving for the war. Feeling the need for her, for her forgiveness, for her friendship, for her love it was as overwhelming as the heat and smell of her.

Fearing he wouldn't be able to control himself, and knowing she wouldn't appreciate him touching her, he stood up and moved to the abandoned window. He glanced out, realizing she'd decorated the view as well. He could see the gardens of their childhood. Midday, by the way the light lit up the flowers and bushes, which also allowed her to read in the light and feel the heat of the sun. She was creating safety in this room, a place to find peace so elusive in reality, and his hopes grew that she would find her way free. Even if he would be gone.

"You're leaving." It wasn't a question, and she didn't mean at the end of another visit. She had read him as easily as she had always been able to.

"I have to." He answered, still staring at her garden. "I can't stay and watch Stefan decide whether or not to fight his inner monster." As he watched the flowers sway in the breeze, he was shocked to see the shadows of human figures below. While they never came into the light and became distinct he could make out six people. He nearly asked her, but realized that she may not know that they were below either.

"I understand." She said and he heard the acceptance in her tone. "It'll be quiet here," she gave a dark chuckle. "But then again it's been quiet before."

He turned to face her, but she had her back to him and was standing facing the fireplace.

"I don't want to leave you behind." He started, but she gave another chilling laugh.

"Really?" She turned, facing him with the same ramrod straight posture and reminding him again of queens he'd read about in storybooks. "It didn't seem to bother you in the family crypt. You might want to check on great grandfather before you leave. I'm not sure I returned his lid to its rightful state."

The pain he felt in the memory she was resurrecting of him killing her couldn't compare to her experience of it, of betrayal, terror, and trauma she must have felt.

"I'm sorry doesn't seem enough of a response," he started, but she stopped him with a raised hand.

"No, it isn't." She answered. "You saved me from whatever Stefan has planned for my unconscious body. Thank you." She stalked back to her chair and book. "You visited and gave me what comfort you are capable of and so I thank you." Her tone was curt. "And now you are leaving, goodbye, Damon. I'd say I wish you well, but honestly I don't know what my wish is for you." She opened her book carefully. "You can go, Damon. I will do as I have done since you left me the first time-I'll find my own way."

She was dismissing him. Coldly, angrily, and absolutely finished. If Damon had assumed that Abigail had warmed to him, he'd been as deluded as Stefan. She knew they were monsters. She knew they killed and hated and she refused to look past what horrible things had happened.

Taking a longing last glance at the one person who had always seen the best in him, Damon realized that leaving made complete sense. Coming here, seeing her, forcing her to interact with this version of himself-it wasn't helping her. Leaving, saying goodbye to Abigail Morgan would free her from the grief and pain his family had wrought upon her. Not immediately, perhaps, but giving her the breathing room to work past her pain.

He sighed and released her hand. Turning away, he never saw the tear that ran down her unconscious face.


	25. Chapter 25

Mystic Falls, VA September 2009

Damon returned to his hometown hellbent on fulfilling his promise to Katherine. The years spent dogging or dodging Stefan hadn't been nearly as satisfying as he'd hoped they would be. Misery may love company, but Stefan tended toward angst filled teenager anyway and honestly that was just mind numbingly dull.

Lexi had worked her magic, repeatedly, on Stefan. Every time he'd slip, she'd step up and force him back on the straight and narrow. There were moments, Damon thought, were obsessive Stefan was more fun.

However, 2009 in Mystic Falls was THE year to bring back Katherine. He felt it and just KNEW it. There was a comet, Founders' activities, and just a scent in the air that screamed it was time. Once she was awake all the choices he'd made from the moment he met her would be worth it. EVERY CHOICE.

Imagine his surprise when he realized that poor moaning, moping Stefan had found himself a dead ringer for Katherine. Elena Gilbert. And damn did he want to be a fly on the wall when his brother had to confess the sins of his past, including the attempts he'd made on her ancestor's life. This trip down memory lane was going to be more enjoyable than he'd anticipated.

Playing in the kiddie pool, he took a cheerleader of his own, Caroline Forbes. Vapid, irritating, blonde, but a means to an end. She was the perfect beard for his act of the bad boy older brother while also urging the town's fears to a fever pitch and irritating his baby brother into divulging his true nature to Elena dearest.

It wasn't until he'd gatecrashed a dinner between Stefan, Elena, and the Bennett witch in residence, with Caroline in tow, that he'd realized there might be a rather large kink in his best laid plans. He'd brought the conversation around to the animal attacks, then to the question of local ghost stories. Since his darling brother liked to pop in on the old hometown now and again, he thought someone may have discussed a guy who kept popping up looking the same throughout the centuries. He hadn't expected what came next.

"The football team has a yearly tradition," Caroline started, her voice low, but eyes twinkling with excitement.

"To drink too much and break into a historic landmark." Bonnie interjected with an eye-roll. "They break and enter the Morgan House."

"Morgan House," Elena offered, "I thought no one had ever lived there, how could it be haunted?"

"Didn't Matt tell you?" Caroline smirked. "It's not haunted, they all say that when they go inside nothing is touched, but upstairs, lying on a perfectly made up bed is a pretty woman dressed in an old fashioned dress who doesn't wake up." She was still smiling as she continued. "Tyler said he touched her and she's warm, she's breathing, but she doesn't make a sound or move."

Bonnie glared at her friend. "Then maybe it's a prank being played on the drunk athletes by the drama department?" She questioned dismissively. "There's no way there's a real life sleeping beauty myth in Mystic Falls."

Damon took a long drink from his glass, hoping his brother was too preoccupied with Katherine 2.0 to have paid attention to the story.

"When do the players exercise this tradition?" Stefan asked, his voice almost sounding casual.

"Devil's Night, of course." Caroline answered and for one of many times Damon considered killing her.

"Ah," his brother answered, smiling up at Elena as she came to sit with him. "Sounds fun."

Perhaps Stefan, being a new player on the team was concerned with the issue of gaining entry to a house with no conscious owner and that was his interest. If not the other issue Damon faced, one he hadn't considered before returning, was that Abigail wasn't free. And if he could trust Caroline for anything, it was knowing gossip and the going ons of her schoolmates. That meant that Abigail was still trapped inside her own head and in her house. Dammit.


	26. Chapter 26

Abigail's Magical Prison~Date Unknown

Abigail had no indication of the time that had passed between Damon's exit and when she began contemplating her real predicament: how to leave her cage?

She was still seated at the window, but she had replaced the ribbon in her book. Instead she sat gazing at the garden below. When she'd lived in the real Salvatore house, her view had been a constant source of pleasure. During summer she could look out on blooming flowers and flitting birds without sinking into the heat of the day. As the days grew shorter and autumn turned the trees and bushes from blooms and greenery to the colors she adored, she could believe that God painted the world for her own enjoyment. Winter's cold made life barren in the garden, but with it came the marvel of nature's ability to shed its past to prepare for the future. And as spring bore fruit, her view sprang back to full green and blossoming life. Even the night gave her beauty, for above the trees shown the stars and moon shining down on the garden and creating a visual magic all its own.

Not knowing the true passage of time was both a blessing and a curse she had realized early on. A blessing because she couldn't focus on how long her stagnancy was and shouldn't be bothered by the inability to move forward. The curse was that she needed that constant rhythm of time to know how to measure her progress. Without the steady tick of a clock and knowing the running of day to night, Abigail couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness.

As she sat in thought, the ever present shadows returned to the garden. Six shadows always hovering at the very edge of her view of the garden. Abigail knew that attempting to focus fully on them would offer no satisfaction to their identities. They had arrived at the same time that she added the view.

Abigail hadn't lied to Damon when she told him she didn't know how she created the view or corrected the imperfections of her room. As the wrongness of the room had bothered her, she had found herself remembering how her real room had looked and things began changing. Thinking about how much she missed seeing the garden, she woke one 'morning' to find the view had manifested itself during her 'sleep'. None of it made sense, but that's how it worked. Her clothes had changed in the same way, she'd gone to sleep thinking that she hated to dress like Katherine, and when she woke, her clothes had been replaced.

She wondered when the room would begin to feel too small. Cabin fever was a term she once read or heard, if her memory served. When would she want so desperately to be set free, but would remain trapped? A slight panic settled over her. What if being put here to fix herself only served to break her further?

Mystic Falls, VA Mid-September 2009

When Damon returned home after the ill-fated dinner party, he was alone. He'd happily dropped Caroline off at her house and carried on to the boarding house. He was sitting on his bed, contemplating what he'd learned after dinner. Abigail was still trapped in her own mind and in her own house. Another ball to add to his juggling mess.

He wasn't too surprised when Stefan sought him out upon his return home.

"Is it true?" Stefan asked, entering without knocking. He stood leaning against the wall beside the door.

Damon considered his answer and chose honesty. It had been nearly 150 years after all.

"Yep." He answered, looking up to gauge his brother's reaction. Would he be able to see if the obsession started to creep back into baby brother? "Abigail Morgan is alive, and apparently still unconscious, in her own house."

Stefan moved to his brother's bed and collapsed beside him. "And you never felt the need to share this little tidbit because?" Was his tone casual because he was casually interested or had Stefan become a better liar than Damon would ever give him credit for being?

Damon looked at the sprawled body next to him and thought about the tableau they might present to an unknowing stranger. A normal older brother and younger brother carrying on a late night conversation? Little would they know.

"You were a monster when you turned," Damon began. "Between your blood lust and obsession with revenge you had this insane desire for HER. She wasn't simply innocent, brother, she was defenseless. Emily helped me hide her." He explained, basic facts without embellishments.

Stefan appeared to be processing the information. "Why is she still there? Did I-" he stopped and Damon knew he wasn't imagining the pain in Stefan's face. "Did I break her, Damon?"

Damon once again went through the options for his answers. One by one he chose against each one, and went with the truth, brutal as it was. "Yes." He answered, using the force of his words to extract every ounce of his brother's pain to give himself the pleasure he desperately searched for all these years. "You broke her, Stefan. You-killing our father in some macabre Shakespearean tragedy to transition with his blood. And then you killed Sallie and the rest of the inhabitants of our home, only to use their flesh and blood to make the walls drip with gore. Walls of a room that you baited her to, like a spider would a fly." He savored the agony on Stefan's face. "You outdid anything I could ever hope to think of, brother. Romance and Valentines are red and pink, but cleaning that gore, I saw a darkness that I could never hope to surpass. And you offered it to her as a courting ritual, Stefan. Did you ever, during all those detoxes you've coped with over the years, ever THINK about Abigail?"

Stefan's eyes were pinched with pain, clearly he'd locked these memories away. Damon was painting a horrifyingly vivid picture that had those memories rushing to the surface. He saw, through a haze of pain and angst, her face when he'd greeted her in the doorway of his father's office. How she'd been terrified and stunned at the rampage of blood and gore. And he remembered her entire bearing shutting down. The light dimming in her eyes. Her face, usually aglow with interest and an intelligence that he'd always found intimidating, gone in an instant. She folded and he'd caught her. Holding her small warm body, a feeling had coursed through him-NEED, not for blood, but for HER.

"I didn't," he groaned, confirming for Damon what he already expected. "I never thought about her."

"That makes two of us, brother." Damon said, hardly lying at all.


	27. Chapter 27

Abigail's Magic Prison~ Date Irritatingly Unknown

As time passed-

Well, Abigail supposed it passed, for all she knew it was the same day Damon left. Ignoring the twinge of loneliness that thought brought, she focused on a way to get to the garden. Clearly the shadows were important, but they came no closer than the edge of her garden scene.

She believed that since she was able to change things inside the room itself and she had made the garden appear, then she should be able to expand the house. All she really needed was the path from her room to the garden. She tried focusing intently on just that path, but a voice and memory kept intruding.

"Abigail," the voice beckoned. Low and intimate, yet also mocking and monstrous, she knew that her path outside would take her past the terror of the room he'd turned from an everyday visit, to a living nightmare.

Blinking out of her fear and terror, she wanted to scream. Frustration, terror, anguish, everything pent up from one night. One month if she wanted to be fully honest with herself. She didn't scream, she couldn't and wouldn't. Her mother had raised her to be measured in her responses. More decorum was expected of a woman of her station.

Shaking off her irritation, she closed her eyes and tried again.

Mystic Falls, VA Mid to Late September 2009

Damon was annoyed. Perturbed. Irritated. Aggravated. Pissed.

As he sat in the faux dungeon of the Salvatore Boarding House, ironically on the date of his rebirth, he was running through all the synonyms for how he was feeling.

Hungry. Thirsty. Dry. Starving.

Stefan was planning on interring him in the family crypt once he was desiccated. Strike two in the irony column. All because Stefan took offense to him attempting to seduce Elena away from him. And possibly because he was using the head cheerleader as his personal blood bag. And maybe because he was toying with the townsfolk. OK, so they had a laundry list of reasons to put him down for the count, but dammit it still sucked.

Like blood from a ripe young artery. Parched. Cottonmouthed. Burning. Yearning.

He'd obviously picked the wrong walking Happy Meal. Out of an entire school of willing cheerleaders, he'd picked the most aggravating one. Killing her should have happened long before he finally tried, and that brought him back to his current housing situation.

Brought down by your own food. Irony checkmate.

He was close to his goal he could feel it. He shouldn't have made a move on Elena, he knew that it had been stupid. Mostly he'd done it because the cheap fix he'd gotten of Stefan's angst from the news about Abigail hadn't lasted long enough. Guess poking Teen Angst Carebear wasn't smart. Coughing drying, he considered his options. Not enjoying the likelihood of the success of many, he settled on his least favorite. Happy Meal to the rescue.

Damon wasn't aware that he wasn't the only Salvatore with multiple balls in the air. While he wasn't controlled by the obsession for Abigail Morgan he once was, Stefan did feel fear for her.

She'd been locked inside her own head for nearly 150 years, that couldn't be a good sign.

He was also finding himself having to reassure Elena about who he was, and that found him making her a home cooked meal at the Gilbert house. He gave her a backstory with enough history that he hoped would keep her mind calm. He also assured her that Damon was gone. No longer an issue for any of them to worry about.

Elena reassured about him, and feeling happy with how their relationship was progressing. He hoped that he could come clean one day, but not just now. Her being happy with his answers made it easy for him to return to his issues with Abigail Morgan.

After Damon had confirmed that the "ghost story" Caroline shared was true, his memories came back in a flood of blood and terror. He remembered his father's death, the killing of the rest of the staff, but it was Sallie's face- eyes pleading, that surfaced the hardest. Seeing the person closest to Abigail rendered bloody and twisted by his own hands brought him to his knees. And the stage he'd set, blood and organs, of the people she'd known so well-how could he have done that?

The memories were real and hard to face. He had to find a path to free her. To let her know that she was finally safe. That she could finally live a long and peaceful life. A life free from him and Damon. He just had to find a way to make it happen.


	28. Chapter 28

The Salvatore House~Coming Together~ Time Unknown

Abigail was making progress. Slow, even without a real ability to tell the passage of time. Slowly the house was growing. She could open her bedroom door and stand in the hallway and if she struggled, she could make out the rooms on the opposite balcony.

Downstairs was still horribly indistinct. Horrible because every time she tried, she heard the voice of her living nightmare beckoning her to come see his gift to her. Her eyes snapped open and it would take eons to get her heartbeat under control. She would have to stop and take a forced break, before feeling calm enough to continue.

The urge to scream lingered. To rage against her grief and loss, to throw a fit of emotions and rail at the sheer amount of fear and trauma the world saw fit to throw at her. She stomped it all down. She wasn't some base creature. She was Abigail Morgan and her mother had raised her better than that.

Sighing and still standing in the hallway, she tried again to bring forth the downstairs of the house she'd spent her formative years in, telling herself to focus on the times before the man she had been expected to marry had created a nightmare within her home. Any time before-

Mystic Falls, VA Early October 2009

Damon had managed his escape. He'd killed Zach and turned Vickie Donavan for fun and retaliation. Stefan, of course, felt no responsibility for his actions. He'd imprisoned him, stole his daylight ring, and threatened to entomb his desiccated husk. Served him right.

If anything good had come from the whole experience, it helped him find out about the Founders' Council, Gilbert compass, and with Zach's forbidden stash of vervain under his control-gave him entrance like a fox in a henhouse. That and the inevitable breakup of his brother and Elena when the poor girl found out about his brother's monstrous true being.

Now if only he could get the crystal back from Caroline to untomb Katherine from Fells' Church.

Stefan hoped, once the shock of his vampirism wore off, Elena might come to understand. He knew it was optimism bordering on delusion, but he needed the hope to keep going.

Finding a way to Abigail was proving elusive. Elena only focused on the Katherine portion of his history, which made some sense, but he had thought she would feel more curiosity or compassion toward Abigail's part of the story. Instead, she broke up with him, promising to keep his secret.

Helpful, yet he needed more help. Maybe he could ask Bonnie. As a Bennett witch she may have a solution, even if she didn't know what it was, yet.


	29. Chapter 29

The Salvatore House~Nearly Complete~ Time Still Evasive

Carefully, though without the anxiety and fear from before, Abigail descended the stairs to the first floor. She walked slowly, but with a purpose. As far as she knew, the downstairs were complete. She hoped there wouldn't be anything to stop her, not putting her nightmare into words. Fear, she'd learned would do nothing, but hold her progress at a standstill.

As her feet touched the carpet lining the first floor, she felt her body still on its own, waiting for anything to stop her. Nothing came. Smiling she walked confidently through the rooms she knew like the back of her hand. She ignored the office. The garden called to her, a different sort of beckoning. To the sun, flowers, and as she crossed the door into the open, she realized the darkness of those shadows.

Mystic Falls, VA Halloween 2009

Everything came to a fever pitch on Halloween. Vickie Donavan fought against all of Stefan's attempts at an animal diet. Damon could have warned him, but the truth is is amused him to watch the brother that couldn't handle human blood dealing with another addictive personality.

He knew she'd die. Why would he care? She'd been a temporary distraction. A plaything during his boredom. A way to make Stefan and Elena's world a little more uncomfortable.

So why the Hell did he clean up the mess? Burying in the corpse, compelling Elena's baby brother's pain away, what the Hell was all that?

And to top it all off the Bennett witch had his crystal. Somehow his mostly useless ex-Caroline had passed it to her and now it was hidden away in Grandma Bennett's house. Bonnie was probably learning all about it's history from the old coot. Would this freakishly hellacious day never end?

Stefan felt terrible. Not only had he been forced to kill Vickie, but he'd been unable to give Elena the one thing she'd asked of him as a vampire. Instead Damon had done it. Giving Jeremy the peace that she was so certain he'd need to keep on the straight and narrow.

He hadn't needed an excuse to miss Devil's Night. Begging off for family obligations, he'd spent it trying to get through to Vickie, but her personality-addictive, had overwhelmed her.

Abigail would again take a back seat. Fixing Damon's messes and running interference with Elena and the human facade he was utilizing took all his time it seemed. When would Abigail be freed?

And now as his human birthday approached, he felt certain he had nothing to celebrate.


	30. Chapter 30

The Salvatore Garden~Time: Who's Keeping Track?

Sitting in the sunlight, without her book, Abigail was waiting. She had been in this position since she came downstairs and found the bench closest to the house. She was waiting for the shadows, ever present when she was upstairs, nowhere in sight now.

How long had she sat on the sun warmed seat? How long had the midday sun held steady? Waiting was growing tiring. She needed to know what the shadows stood for. After all, the darkness had always spoken to her. What were shadows besides darkness?

That consideration made, she tried to get comfortable on the bench. Settling in for a wait, she wondered what could possibly help her go home? Her real home, not this terrible facsimile. As was lost in her thoughts, she heard a voice speak.

"Abigail?" It was childlike, but she'd recognize it anywhere. It was the same voice that had greeted her during her first visit to this house as a five year old. She opened her eyes and was greeted by twelve year old Damon Salvatore. "Princess Abigail, when did you become so grown?"

She felt tears blur and burn her eyes. His pale ones shown with wonder at finding her in his garden. And while she didn't understand his presence, she welcomed this Damon. The one she'd truly known and trusted.

Patting the bench beside her, Damon sat, still drinking in the look of his fully adult friend.

"I've missed you, Damon." She whispered. Terror filled her that she could lose him, by speaking too loudly or touching him. "This version of you, I mean." She wondered if he understood and noticed he was smiling at her knowingly. "You are really him, aren't you?"

"I'm the Damon you need me to be," he answered. He reached slowly and carefully out and took her hand. "You need to make peace with what you've lost, Abi."

Sighing it dawned on her. In the real world, the darkness warned of impending doom, but here they were echoes. Why had Damon come first? Before she asked, the truth of her being trapped in her own mind was refreshed when he answered her unspoken question.

"Because I'm the loss that you felt the deepest." He said, and in a flash he was the man he'd been before he left for the war.

She didn't flinch in fear or move away. This Damon was familiar as her own face. He smiled, holding her hand and giving her real comfort.

"You and I, Abigail Morgan." His voice was a mimic of the whisper she'd used. "We were supposed to be an epic love story. The whole town knew it. Every dance, every dinner, every place we went together people watched us with envy." Pain tugged as his eyes that clearly matched the wrench in her heart.

"And I ruined it." He said, fighting against morphing into the Damon he'd become when he'd returned. "I left you. I came back and chose a monster." The change complete, he still held her hand, but tears of pain and the anguish of losing him so completely ran freely down her face. "Even our last dance together, before I tried to kill you just to please her, had everyone mesmerized. They still envied us, Abigail. Moments before I killed and buried you, the entire town would have placed bets on us being together forever."

Her sobs choked her as the Damon who she had been so scared of when he'd hidden her in this prison held her. He held her as she released the pain that had built from her hopes and dreams of them as a couple were released. The pain of losing him to war, to the promise of marrying his brother, to Katherine, and finally to his turning into a vampire poured from her. She finally raged at him. She pounded on his chest and screamed. Begging to die so her torment of a life without him and the future she'd carried so close to her chest would finally end.

And as her anguish lightened, as the sobs died down, she felt him fading. And then he was gone. Silence descended on her and her tears fell, but silent now. The pain of her heartbreak more manageable, at least where Damon was concerned. But now she knew. The shadows were people she lost. If Damon was the first, because his loss had cut her the deepest, then who would be next?

Mystic Falls, VA November 1, 2009

Stefan may have felt celebrating his birthday was not in the cards for him this year, but his best friend Lexi hadn't gotten the memo. She showed up on his doorstep and he had to admit he was incredibly happy to see her.

The first hiccup came when Elena showed up unannounced, and Lexi fresh from her shower answered it in her towel. Luckily it was easily explained, although Lexi was shocked at the fact that she looked exactly like Katherine. Hearing her warning lecture was sweet, but it nearly ruined their day.

It wasn't until they were playing pool at the Grille that Stefan told her what he'd learned about Abigail. If Elena's appearance shocked her, then this news nearly floored her.

"She's been in Mystic Falls this entire time?" Lexi asked, confused enough to miss her shot. "And she's stuck in a house that only your brother and humans can access?"

Checking to make sure they didn't have an audience, he nodded. "Yes," sighing her took his turn. "Damon did what he had to do, but we never came back for her."

Shrugging, Lexi waited for Stefan to shoot to continue. "Not totally on you. You didn't know she was trapped." He missed so she lined up her own. "Why didn't he tell you in the many years since you got your issues under control?"

He'd wondered the same, but chalked it up to Damon's desire to make him pay for past transgressions. Stefan knew Lexi would figure it out eventually and she'd be less understanding about it.

"I'm sure he forgot." Stefan offered, sounding lame even to himself. "How many times has he flipped his switch, Lexi?" She was considering it. "Even I forgot her."

Lexi took the next shot, since Stefan forfeited through inaction.

"So your asshole brother forgot the woman who lived with the both of you for five years? Who you told me yourself had been his best friend for longer?" Her tone proved she didn't buy it.

"It could happen. There have been a LOT of women since." Said asshole commented as he strode toward their game. "Why does it matter?" He asked in a low tone. "We forgot her and Emily assured me she would free herself, in her own time." He was projecting an extreme lack of concern and Lexi called bullshit.

"You went through all that trouble to hide her. Making certain that NO one except you and humans could see or find her, but you don't care now?" Her perfectly maintained eyebrow rose in disbelief. "I don't care how often you prostituted yourself for blood-she mattered. And I bet she still does."


	31. Chapter 31

Salvatore Gardens~ Time Uncertain

Abigail had regained her control. While seeing Damon, all stages of him, had released part of her pain and grief, she knew there was plenty more where that came from. And so she waited until the next shadow took form and approached.

"Miss Morgan?" A light feminine voice broke through the silence of the garden.

"Sallie," Abigail whispered, her voice raw. "Haven't I asked you to call me Abigail?" She was trying desperately for lightness, but opening her eyes to the woman who'd been with her since practically her birth would bring terrible pain. She knew she had to, it was part of the process.

Her maid turned companion was dressed in the light pink dress from the Founders' Party. Still made up, still beautiful and wonderful in how they had set the town talking. She was bathed in sunlight, perfect and unlike whatever horror must have befallen her, only because Abigail set her on a task.

Once again the tears blurred and burned her eyes. She felt Sallie come closer, bending down before her in that beautiful dress.

"Please, Abigail," Sallie begged. "It wasn't your fault." Her hands took Abigail's into a clutch of comfort, rubbing soothing circles with her thumbs against the smooth skin of her former mistress' hands.

"I sent you to him," she sobbed, her guilt overwhelming. "Like a lamb to slaughter." Sallie shushed her, like she had when Abigail was a child having a bad dream. "He killed you because of me."

"No," Sallie said, correcting her. "He killed me because he was a monster. If you hadn't sent me, he would have ripped me from your arms and made you watch. This wasn't your fault."

Her guilt poured out of her in a torrent. All the anguish she felt knowing that she hadn't kept Sallie safe. That because she used her as messenger she became part of a grotesque courting ritual. She sobbed and screamed, begging for forgiveness. Pleading with Sallie to forgive her for this tragic end.

As she gained control over herself, she felt Sallie slip away from her. Letting go of her lost love, then the guilt of not protecting Sallie eased part of her burden that still laid heavily on her. Its release allowed her to breathe a little more freely, but she knew it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

Mystic Falls, VA November 2009

Damon killed Lexi. Swearing it was part of some elaborate masterplan, but Stefan felt it was part of his vow to make his eternity miserable. Without Lexi, he had no one to discuss Abigail with, no one to discuss options to help her. No one to understand his need to help her.

The town swallowed Lexi's death as the perfect answer to the animal attacks. Clearly new local hero, Damon Salvatore knew what he was doing in vampire hunting.

Stefan felt Lexi's loss deeply. He swore to Elena that he'd kill Damon for this, the final betrayal between them. He had to die. Sadly when push came to shove the stake in, he relented. Instead he'd merely ruined his brother's shirt, and gave him an irritation by staking his stomach.

Everything seemed to be falling off kilter. The town was running toward madness. Matt Donavan was dating Caroline Forbes. Bonnie Bennett was wearing a hideous large necklace, at the behest of her grandmother, but it was strange nonetheless. And for a really weird checkmark, Damon Salvatore was a member of the Founders' Council.

Weird was the new normal, so hardly anyone took note of the new history teacher, Alaric Saltzman. Hardly anyone. He was helping Jeremy find his way back into the academic league he should be in. Winning over Jenna was just a nice bonus for the attractive, widowed teacher.

And still, Abigail Morgan was kept waiting in the wings. No one outside her prison seemed to be able to focus on the problem at hand. Perhaps simply because it wasn't the promise at their hand.


	32. Chapter 32

Salvatore Garden~ Time Pressing Ever Onward, Supposedly

Abigail powered through her pain and guilt after seeing Sallie quicker than she had with Damon. Perhaps she was figuring this out. Damon, then Sallie, who could possibly be next?

Closing her eyes, she waited for the next visitation. When the voice came, she found that she wasn't nearly as surprised as she'd been by the first two. She almost expected to hear it.

"Ah, my sweet Abi," the cultured tone of a well bred woman said, forcing her eyes to open. Lily Salvatore, healthy as she had been the very first time she'd met her at five years old.

The sob came fast this time. The mother she'd only had for two short years. The mother she'd watched waste away after bearing up under the strain of an unhappy marriage. A woman she aspired to emulate.

"Lily." She whispered, her voice choked with pain and longing. "I miss you so much." Her eyes were clouded by tears and she fought to clear them. She wanted to keep Lily with her. This woman, who clearly loved her dearly, meant so much to her.

"And I you, my darling girl." Lily was beaming as she sat next to Abigail and held open her arms. Abi wasted no time to take the offer, cuddling into her embrace. "You've been through so much, Abi." She felt the kiss against her hair. "You've been strong and brave. You need to let it go-everything you're holding back."

Abigail understood the permission to let go. Her screaming and freeing up her emotions was allowing her to feel easier inside. If this was part of the key to unlock her prison, she's happily take the wisdom as it was offered.

"I never wanted you to leave, Lily." Abigail offered weakly, knowing this version would understand she meant both to the sanitorium and from life. "I begged to stay with you."

Lily rocked her lightly and continued speaking quietly. "I know, but I had to go. You my darling, are meant for so much more." She whispered into Abigail's hair. "You needed independence. And I had hoped that my wedding quilt would have been put to proper use by now." A light chuckle from her mother figure told her that she wasn't been scolded. Not really.

"Stefan and I," Abi began.

"It was never Stefan and you, my wonderful daughter." Lily pulled back and stroked the hair from Abi's face. "The two of you knew your fate from the moment you met. Only my husband would turn a blind eye to what the entire world could see." She was smiling at Abigail. "He came first for a reason, Abigail. Don't forget what you've learned, that will only set you back from all you've accomplished." She kissed Abigail on the forehead in blessing. "Release me, Abigail. Let me be a happy memory, like the story of the quilt. Don't hold on to the last terrible goodbye."

Abigail sat up, control fighting to return. "Yes, Mother," she replied smiling. Lily's answering smile could have lit up the garden.

"Perfect, my love. I'd expect no less." As she faded, a feeling of peace rolled over Abigail.

Maybe, just maybe she would find her own way out after all.

Mystic Falls, VA~ December 2009

Damon insisted on Elena's company for an impromptu trip to Atlanta. Swearing it was only because of the nasty car wreck she suffered due to some weird guy standing in the middle of the road, she was shocked to find that she was actually enjoying herself. Even if he only brought her to piss off Stefan, and she was enjoying it in retaliation for finding out that she really did look exactly like Katherine. Not the best way to end your first time with your new boyfriend, but it wasn't like she and Stefan had a normal relationship.

She had to admit, saving Damon's ass from a vengeful grieving boyfriend put a damper on the trip. Especially when it brought Lexi's death to the forefront again.

Elena was somewhat shocked that Damon never mentioned Abigail Morgan. Stefan talked about her more than Katherine, and Lexi and attempted to explain it all to her. Stefan had issues with human blood, addiction issues, which she'd seen first hand. Lexi said the other part, his other obsession had been one he held for Abigail. They seemed linked, his blood lust and Abigail. And since he'd mastered the one, he felt responsible to fix the other.

Lexi had also said that, while Stefan was fixated on Abigail, it was Damon who had the actual real world connection to her. They'd been best friends. So if that were true, then why wasn't he at least interested in why she hadn't awakened? One hundred and fifty years, give or take, was a long time for even Sleeping Beauty.

On the drive back she decided to ask. His focus on Katherine didn't make sense. He loved her, that was fine, but why didn't he give a damn about his best friend? If he helped her to safety, why hadn't he made sure she was still safe?

Damon glared out the windshield. This trip wasn't going as he'd planned. It had pockets of fun, but it was getting worse since he'd been attacked by Lexi's boyfriend. And having to kill Bree hadn't been the ending he'd hoped for either. And now Elena had to bring up the petite, beautiful elephant lingering in the Morgan House to haunt him.

"You know the basic information, Elena." Damon said, hoping the warning in his voice was evident.

Elena faced him across the car. "So explain it better, then."

Giving a long suffering sigh, Damon wondered where to begin. The beginning he decided, thinking Elena would fall asleep from boredom.

"Abigail Morgan came into my life when I was twelve years old. She and my darling baby brother were both five." He found himself falling into memories. "Their age would make most people assume they would be the close ones, but despite our age gap, she and I found each others' company more desirable." He could almost feel her small body in his arms as he'd doted on her in those early years. How smart and engaging she had been even at that young age. He'd devised games, stories, and ways to keep her entertained, while Stefan would soon lose interest. "When Abigail was thirteen her house burned and everyone except her and her servant Sallie died."

"Everyone?" Elena asked in a hush.

Glancing at her he realized that orphans might be something difficult for her to deal with after her own tragic backstory. "Yes, everyone. Her parents and all their servants." He didn't remember the night, he'd been asleep. The next morning his mother had come to his room and explained about Abigail and that she'd be living with them from that point forward. "She lived with us after, my parents' ward. She and my mother were close, already like mother and daughter even before the fire." He said, remembering how Lily had glowed with happiness at having Abi with her. "Then, two years later, my mother died of tuberculosis." His memory bloomed of Abigail hellbent on following his mother wherever she went. And the one time he and his father were on the same page. "She had nursed my mother, having never been sick, and always so attached to my mother. We should have known-" He allowed his memory to fill the three years that followed. Keeping Abigail company, finally having her all to himself. Learning more from her than he had ever learned from his father. The parties they'd attended, always together. How the town expected what he had, for them to be together forever. "We were one another's comfort in a house that held so little. She was someone who always saw the best in me." Even he heard the longing in that line.

"And yet, you haven't gone to see her." Elena pointed out, clearly having heard it as well.

"Being stuck in the past-" He started.

"Like with Katherine?" She interrupted.

Damn Elena and her sudden interest in Abigail Morgan. And her attentiveness to him when she forced him to discuss her.

"You never seem this interested when Stefan brings her up." He commented, hoping to shut down the conversation.

Elena turned to look out the passenger window. "Because he's only interested for the sake of redeeming himself. You had a real connection to her, so you not being interested is strange to me."

Finish the story, he reminded himself, that should put an end to her curiosity. "I left to join the military in 1863. Abigail was 16 going on 17. I broke her heart by joining. Abigail had been plagued her entire life with the curse of premonitions. Leaving for the uncertainty of war was like setting her curse on fire. She pleaded with me, but I joined to prove something to my father." He remembered her green eyes flush with tears, begging him to change his mind. To stay with her. He'd wanted to, so very badly. To take it back . "Stefan wrote to me in September 1864, asking me to return, for her sake. I went to my commanding officer and begged for leave. I went home, but never to her. Because when I arrived at the house that hadn't really been a home until Abigail Morgan came to live with us, I heard a voice in the garden and went to see who it belonged to. There she was, Katherine Pierce." Did he imagine the pain he heard in his own voice. "I never really spoke to Abigail again. Well, not until I tried to kill her to clear the path for Katherine." Hearing Elena's gasp he continued to so he could push the feelings that anyone felt he held for Abigail would be put to rest. "I didn't know she couldn't die, Elena, so I didn't just try to kill her. I buried her in my family's crypt. I put her to rest inside my great grandfather's tomb, then I shut the lid."

"She would have," Elena stopped, swallowing down the rising bile. "You still made sure she was safe from Stefan." She was pleading with him to redeem the monstrous image he'd created.

"Only because I didn't want to live watching her torture at his hands, Elena." He said, absolving himself. "I wanted freedom from Stefan."

And that effectively ended her questioning about Abigail.


	33. Chapter 33

Salvatore Garden~ Time Uncertain, Still, Forevermore

As the sun comfortably warmed her, Abigail took a moment to take stock of what she'd learned from her shadow visitors so far.

From Damon she'd learned that keeping her feelings for him buried; the good, the bad, the unrequited, had done nothing aside from piling up her already heavy emotional baggage to critical levels. Even her papa's trick for leveraging off heavy burdens wouldn't help with this load.

Sallie's appearance brought her guilt to the forefront. Her belief that she had the power to control anyone's destiny, even her own , with or without the shadow visions that plagued her outside this realm was laughable. Hadn't she read the poets and their warnings against such hubris? Seeing Sallie and having her release Abi from the strain of all that guilt and pain she had retained from every death she couldn't prevent.

Lily had given her the first confirmation to her own realization about keeping silent. Reigning in her emotions and reactions to all the stress and grief she'd been through was acting as a stopper. Having her mother figure give her permission to do that, after already been forced to release it, helped. And seeing Lily healthy and at peace was a balm to her soul.

Waiting for the next to step forward, Abigail felt she knew who it might be. She'd miss him so much, only Lily's more recent death would have ever put her to the forefront of her mind. When she opened her eyes to the vision of him, she was prepared for his admonishment.

"Really, my angel," her papa scolded, "a beautiful day and you haven't brought a book?"

Her choked sob was laced with a chuckle. "Sorry, papa." She answered standing and throwing herself into his waiting arms.

As he embraced her, they stood a moment clutching one another. She felt his hands running down the length of her hair, checking it seemed for how long it had grown since he'd gone. She was the same height, fitting perfectly under his chin, her head pressed against his chest.

"You're a woman now, Abigail." His voice filled with wonder. "Have I been gone so long?"

She sniffled and came under enough control to answer. "Five years, papa." She pulled back to look into eyes that matched her own. "Five very long years."

He pulled her back to the bench and kept her in his embrace. "In these long five years, Abigail, have you found the man to replace me in your heart?" His tone was light, and she knew he should know already, but realized that this must be a piece of the puzzle to leave her prison.

Abigail stiffened. Even with the knowledge that this was entirely in her own mind, it was something she had never said out loud.

She felt herself blush. "I would think that you'd be watching me, Papa." She still found it difficult to admit to. "I was in love with someone, but it ended badly." Understatement of the decade.

"Badly?" He asked, disbelief coloring his voice. "Tell me, Abigail."

"I loved Damon, Papa." Her voice was barely above a breath. She'd never said it plainly. Never given it credence. "And he broke my heart." Her tears came rushing back. The pain of knowing what everyone could see, but one they could feel was torn from her. "He broke me."

The story tumbled from her lips as her pain burst free. She'd thought raging at Damon had been enough. Clearly it hadn't been. As she told her papa, the good, the bad, and the most painful, she felt herself lighten.

"And now he's like HER." She hissed, feeling anger rush to replace the loss. "He chose to die for her then he chose to become exactly what she was, Papa." The anger and pain mingled, taking her breath.

"Did he, Abigail?" Her papa asked, like he would have once questioned her about the heroes in her books. "Did he come back for HER?"

Abigail looked into her father's eyes through her tears. "Why else, Papa?" A question for a question, not always welcome in their discussions.

"He didn't transition alone," her papa offered. "Did he have a choice, or was his choice made for him?"

"He wanted to turn for her, Papa." She replied, returning to her original ire.

Papa, wisdom shining in those green eyes. "And yet, she was gone, and he still turned." He studied her. "Don't allow the things men, or women, do during the heat of lust and obsession compel you to forget what made you fall in love with him." Before she could speak he continued. "He did make you safe, my love."

"After trying to kill me, burying me in the family crypt, and don't forget leaving me alone with my thoughts." She was feeling petulant and holding on to her grudge with both hands.

Her papa's laughter startled her. "That fire, Abigail. The feeling of anger and frustration, what you imagine is hatred, it proves you and Damon have more to your story." She glared at him and he gave another chuckle. "Hatred isn't the opposite of love, jenta mi, indifference is."

Hearing the term of endearment "jenta mi" from her father's lips sparked a long buried memory of the night of the fire. Pulling her away from the garden, she remembered confessing to him the vision that raged from the darkness and he'd said, "De har funnet oss, jenta mi." She didn't recall him ever speaking another language before that night, but she when she asked what he said, he lied. Because now she knew he said, "They found us, my girl." Even as he'd told her not to worry and it was time for bed, he knew it was coming.

"You knew," she said, pulling away from the memory and sitting back to fully look at her father. "That night, you knew you were going to die." The accusation was thick, her pain almost palpable.

Her papa, the solemn Eric Morgan, looked abashed. "I did, my darling girl." He looked down at his hands. "Death had stalked us through the ages. Coming here, having you, I always felt that we were baiting the bear." Tears were flowing down his face now. "Your mother and I made a terrible choice that night. We faced death willingly, but made certain you were hidden. Keeping you safe from the monster that stalked us was our only concern." He offered his hand and she took it, needing his strength. "Leaving you, even knowing that you were safe among mortals and would be loved by Lily, felt more painful than the act of dying ever could be."

"Mortals?" She knew she was different, but how different was still a mystery. "Papa, what am I?"

"It's almost time for me to go, jenta mi," he stated, seeming to hear a sound she couldn't. "Promise me, when you leave here, that you will return to where we last said goodbye. You'll find answers there, and that is my promise to you." Kissing Abigail on her forehead, in a warm rush of air he was gone.

She screamed, letting all of her pain and confusion free in a burst of angst. Leaving was coming closer, but she knew she would retain her turmoil, at least in part. The frustration of not knowing what she really was, nor what had hunted her parents being slid into a small compartment inside her.

Mystic Falls, VA~ Mid-Late December 2009

Damon hadn't expected help in his quest to free Katherine, but he sure as hell didn't expect a second group side-questing toward the same goal. Well, technically Anna only wanted her mother, Pearl, but their goals being so similar it irked him when he realized she was pulling the rug from under him.

Turning moronic Logan Fell, abducting Elena and Bonnie all the attempts to find the same puzzle pieces to do what he planned. Jesus, would it hurt to work together? Or better plan, stay out of his damn way.

Opening the tomb sucked, because all of his work, all of his push through came to nothing. Katherine wasn't even inside. His hero haired brother and his one far too sexy self nearly became entombed by two very uppity Bennett witches. All in all, irritating. It did not break his heart when he learned that dear old Grams Bennett died. Good, naturally caused death meant the technically kept his vow to Emily.

So as Christmas bore, heavy on the 'dom', down on him for another year, he wondered how well he had actually known Katherine Pierce?


	34. Chapter 34

Salvatore Gardens~Time Marching Ever Onward

Abigail's screaming ended as quickly as it began. She'd released it, as Lily had advised. The pain and frustration was lessened, not gone, but made manageable. Her control regained, she felt curious, four down and two to go. Would her real mother appear?

As her thoughts coalesced, the voice she heard was a complete surprise.

"Abigail, you smart, brave girl." Giuseppe Salvatore complimented. "Even here, you impress me. I truly wish I'd lived to see you take my surname."

She smiled at the man who'd only recently came to be in her affections. "Mr. Salvatore-"

"Giuseppe, I think you long earned the right to call me by my given name, Abigail." He said, carefully sitting next to her. "I wish we'd had more time to become acquainted on this level."

"As do I," she said, even as she half-blamed him for his current state. "I also wish-"

"That I had given you to the correct son?" He said screwdly. "You'll never forgive me that, Abigail, I fear." His eyes looked tired and sad. "Alive, my only goal was to keep the Salvatore name unblemished and to add to our greatness. Grasping," he chuckled darkly, "you would call it."

"Why couldn't you see him as I did?" Abigail asked, truly curious. "You hated him, and never saw any of his goodness."

Giuseppe considered her question and observation of his relationship with his eldest son. "I feared him," he answered, shocking even himself. "His passion, his urge to make you happy even at such a young age showed a loyalty I wasn't sure I ever possessed. He loved you so completely, so early, that I knew he'd put you first. Not the family honor." He looked at her with guilt. "It took me far too long to realize that you shared his love, loyalty, and devotion. Yours running both to him and our family. If I hadn't been blinded by my fear of him, and his ability to reign in his passion, maybe this all could have been avoided."

Abigail realized that she didn't feel as much pain in this visit. She was angry, certainly. He'd kept them apart. Damon went to war to prove his worth to this man. She didn't want to rage at him, he'd just confessed to the real reasons behind his distrust and anger toward Damon. It proved her right, Damon had been the best of the Salvatore men.

"We would have been happy." She said wistfully. "I've seen it in my dreams. Our family, including you, happy."

His pain was evident. "I know what I've cost you, Abigail. Will you forgive me?" His tone implied what she felt she'd known since he'd appeared. Her forgiveness, his release, all part of her key home. Did she forgive him?

Thinking as her former guardian waited she did what she'd always done while suffering from indecision. She made a mental list. Why he treated Damon so badly made a dark sense, but keeping them apart for family pride? Didn't he know her? Hadn't he watched her grow and learn?

As she struggled, she realized the true question wasn't Giuseppe's problems or their past. It was how badly did she want to go home? And that did it.

"I forgive you." She said, truthfully. "For me, and you." She took his hand. "You and I had made peace before you passed, and I can't forget that." Lily again, providing her with the answers. "I wish we'd had more time. The man I met in the family crypt is someone I would have liked to know better."

She smiled as he squeezed her hand. Leaning forward, giving her the blessing of his kiss on her forehead, she felt as he faded. A single tear ran down her cheek. Quietly forgiving the man who would have been her father had eased her emotional torment. She knew home was closer.

One more, she thought, and the doors of this prison would open. Home, she felt, really was the sweetest word.

Mystic Falls, VA~January 2010

What's worse than finding out your vampire girlfriend escaped entombment and desiccation after working for half a year to release her? Learning that the other entombed vampires had escaped instead and weren't feeling very friendly toward you and your brother.

He felt really great when learning all the additional angst from Stefan and Elena. Baby brother got abducted by tomb vamps, tortured and rescuing him with help from history teacher/vampire hunter, Ric was-fun (insert eyeroll). Now, thanks to a little helpful blood donation to aid his recovery-Stefan was heading toward the inevitable Ripper nightmare.

Then there came the news that Elena Gilbert was ADOPTED! Maury moment. And? Since baby brother was heading toward disaster, the tomb vampires were heading toward destruction and he was over this entire nightmare-he didn't want to contemplate the next evolution of crap that could or would come crushing down.

What next? He nearly screamed at the sky. What could the earth possibly throw at him next?


	35. Chapter 35

Salvatore Garden~Is It Ending, FINALLY?

There was a new tension in Abigail. Only one shadow left. One more trauma, one more lesson her mind needed to teach. She'd expected the first four, but the fifth had surprised her. What new shock would come from the sixth?

"Abigail?" The voice, very young truly drew her up short. She opened her eyes and saw five year old Stefan Salvatore standing in front of her. Surely this wasn't the last. Not even her own mind would force her to relive his descent.

She struggled to stay seated, to not flinch. He was still a child, after all. Even if he became a nightmare, he wasn't at this point. "Stefan." Her voice was thick with the fear she was desperate to hide.

"You and Damon left me, Abi." He accused, the dark eyes she knew as a child lightening before her eyes. "We played together for awhile, but then you left me behind."

"You didn't play very nice, Stefan." She whispered, knowing this child would transform. "You scared me."

As she knew would happen, he began to morph from a sweet looking five year old to thirteen to seventeen in quick succession. Skipping over the years they hadn't interacted.

"Ah, Abigail," his voice sounding more like her living nightmare than she wanted to admit. "I only wanted to show you how much I cared." The longing was there, like it had been when he lured her to the office. Her fear was choking. She had to keep chanting to herself that it was all in her mind, he wasn't real. "You didn't like it?" The mocking tone, another reminder.

"No, I didn't." She stared back into his eyes as she fought against her terror. "You ripped apart your father and Sallie, not to mention the rest. You painted the walls with their blood, Stefan."

"For you." He answered, smiling brightly. "They would have stood between us. They would have stopped the inevitable. We are meant to be, Abigail. This," he gestured at their surroundings, "is temporary. You will be mine."

"NO!" Her scream shocked her and startled him. "I will leave this place, but you and I, Stefan? This madness inside you, this obsession? I will NOT allow the fear of you to trap me. You are NOT the brother I loved."

Her power, coming at last to drive away the terror and darkness, made Stefan Salvatore crumble to dust. A light breeze finished him, by scattering him across the gardens. She smiled.

She had conquered her inner demons. She fought the horror of a nightmare come back to life. And as she considered all her progress, she felt the pull. The feeling that she'd known all her life. How waking from exhaustion after the darkness descended into fully realized form felt.

Closing her eyes in the realm that Emily Bennett had created, a deep sigh escaped her lips, and when she reopened her eyes, she was lying in the middle of a foreign bed, in a strange room.

Glancing around to get her bearings, a noise from outside the windows shattered the peace of her room. She sat up and tried to place the noise. The booming reminded her of the drummer boys that always marched with the newly recruited soldiers leaving home. They would parade through town, past the house so many times that she'd lost count. This noise was similar, but also patently different. There were other noises co-mingling. Music?

Carefully stepping down from the large four-poster bed, she stepped to the window. Searching for the source of the noise, she soon became distracted by the view. It was entirely different from what her new house should have been looking out on. A dark black road with yellow lines down the middle ran through what should have been her fields. Someone had commandeered her land. For a road.

The noise was gone, until there was a strange roar gathering strength. Red and fast, obviously some type of carriage, but horseless and loud. She watched as a couple walked into view, behind a strange sort of pram, their clothes so strange. Was that woman wearing very tight pants?

Abigail stepped back and tried to settle the realization that she had been trapped for far longer than she'd expected. With no idea of the year, she also acknowledged she was still a prisoner. Out of her mind, but trapped inside her house. At least until she could figure out clothes and some idea of when she'd reappeared.

Mystic Falls, VA~End of January 2010

Damon woke up at noon, feeling like something was different. Something atmospheric. As though the air had been sucked from his room, his bed, and his lungs.

It wasn't Stefan's fight for control. That was becoming any day that ended in 'y'. It wasn't Elena's drama with her parentage-Ric, John, Isabelle-Seriously call Maury.

What was the old saying? It felt like someone had walked across his grave. And that's when he knew. Abigail Morgan. The only person who would walk on his grave and hurt him by doing it.

He left the house and ignored taking the car. Her house, how many times had he revisited in his dream, was now backed up to a road. If she woke and he was sure she had, she must be reeling from the conundrum. The room she was in overlooked it. Cars, pop music, people in strange clothing-she was probably being overwhelmed by all of it.

He saw, as soon as he arrived, how the football players had gained entrance. The back servant entrance, the one he'd taken great pains to secure before he left town and her, had been jimmied. Idiots. Sighing he knocked. She was awake and she had a right to turn him away. Minutes passed, and he grew anxious. Was she alright? As he began contemplating breaching the door, he heard a light step inside.

She was coming, but she wouldn't know who was waiting on the other side. Taking a deep breath, and hoping he could control his voice, he called out to her letting her know it was him, The steps stopped coming.

Abigail was on the servant's stairwell. She had heard the knock and started down, curious, but cautious. Hearing Damon's voice, still as familiar as her own, stopped her. She closed her eyes. Was she prepared to see him again? He was still a vampire and they were still estranged. She knew he was also probably the only person who knew she was here.

She continued down the stairs and made her way to the door standing between them. Before she opened it, she had one question. "Are you alone?" She whispered, her hand unknowingly pressed to the same spot on the door that mirrored his.

Closing his eyes at the sweetness of the sound of her voice, here in the real world, he smiled. "Yes, Abi, I'm alone." He heard the key turn in the lock on the other side. The hinges didn't squeak as she slowly opened it, years of idiots breaking and entering.

The light slowly fell across her and he was reminded of her size. So petite, yet so deceptive in that tiny body held fire that could bring a grown man to his knees. As the light hit her face, she offered a shy smile, the fear she'd shown him during his other visits was gone. She must have worked hard to make that possible. Her eyes, clear green, nearly glowed in the light and he was distracted by her face. The same beautiful woman he'd left for war. He drunk her in like a man dying of thirst. Even her outfit, out of place in this time, was perfectly her.

"You're staring." She said, as she did the same to him. Tall, dark, and handsome. The same piercing blue eyes. The same smirking mouth. A mouth she'd never kissed. Never given in to what she hoped she was seeing reflected in his own eyes. "Do I have to invite you in again? I believe it has been awhile."

Damon chuckled and stepped inside as she moved out of his path. Was he imagining the look of longing she'd given him? He was certain it was matched in his own. Why had he wasted any time on Katherine? When this angel had been waiting, he'd spent time searching for something stupid. Kicking himself, he followed her back to the room he'd placed her in. Still her safe space, clearly.

She sat on the bed and watched while he tried to decide where to sit. Finally giving him a favor, she patted the bed next to her, reminding her of the bench in the garden. He sat, still watching her.

"I'm sure you have questions." He said, drinking her in, but knowing her insatiable curiosity may need satiated first.

She gave a light laugh. So different from the dark humor she'd shown when he was last with her. "Of course," her smile held. "I'll get to them, but aren't you curious about anything?"

He hadn't expected that. Her offering a glimpse into what she'd gone through over the course of a hundred plus years to get here. He WAS curious, but mostly he was overcome with the urge to touch her. Her hand, her face, her hair, any part she'd allow. Turning toward her, he held out his hand, wondering if she'd accept the offer.

Abigail looked at his outstretched hand and smiled sweetly. Placing hers gently inside, she felt what she'd always felt when they had touched before everything went downhill. Calm, peace, and the absolute certainty of the rightness of them. She noticed a ring on his hand, one she'd only seen in a dream. Touching it gently he stilled completely, reminding her that he wasn't human any longer. She shook her head and glanced up at him.

"This ring?" She asked, catching him off guard with the personal question. She still wasn't asking the general questions he expected.

Damon shifted her hand into his other one, and held the hand wearing the ring up so it caught the sunlight. "My daylight ring. It lets me come out in the sun." He watched her face for signs of fear or the flinch of discomfort. Nothing aside from her normal curiosity. "Emily made one for me and one for Stefan."

Even the name in this world no longer scared her. Abigail nodded at the knowledge. She smiled and asked another question. "How long have I been-" She searched for the best word, "indisposed?"

Now he looked truly nervous. "One hundred and forty-six years." His hand was rubbing soothing patterns on hers.

She looked ruefully at their hands. "I'm an incredibly slow learner." She was doing the math in her head. "It's 2010?"

"Yes," he confirmed, reaching with his free hand to tilt her face up so he could keep looking into her eyes. "I'm sorry you were alone so long."

Licking her lower lip, she considered whether she was ready to share her experience with him. She didn't realize that she'd unknowingly drawn his attention to her mouth. A mouth that if he was honest with himself had haunted more dreams than he could count. This mouth. Naturally red, full lower lip, that he'd always wanted to taste, but never took advantage of any opportunity. Before he made his thoughts and wants align, he was leaning in. His hand still held her cheek, his eyes locked on hers, and as his head dipped he felt her hands reach for him. Saying a silent prayer of gratitude, their lips met.

Their first kiss should have happened earlier. The town of their youth had long assumed had. But if Damon were being completely honest, having their first kiss now, knowing that his senses were a million times more advanced and that they'd longed for it for so long made it explosive.

Human Damon would have been distracted by errant thoughts of inferiority or fear. Vampire Damon knew she was enjoying it as much as he was. He could hear the pounding of her heart. See the dilation of her pale eyes. Smell her arousal. And feel how her skin grew warmer. He could enjoy the taste of her. The softness of her lips and the sweetness of the touch of her fingertips along his neck.

Human Damon would have squandered this kiss. Vampire Damon felt EVERYTHING and shared it right back. His hands slid into her hair, always so tempting, feeling the silky curls wrap around his fingers.

Abigail sighed into his mouth and he took the opening as an invitation. Damon's tongue slipped inside and if he thought her taste was overwhelming before it was NOTHING to the real taste of her mouth. He growled and she chuckled, pulling back.

"That was-" She began.

"Too long in the making," he finished. Pulling her to him and kissing her again. As her skirts tangled against him, he realized that Abigail wasn't used to this. Any of this. Reluctantly pulling away. "I'm sorry. I got carried away."

She was breathing heavily. Her eyes almost black, bottom lip bitably swollen, and he wanted her so badly it hurt. She swallowed hard and he thought about all the other parts of her he wanted to kiss. Her jaw, her neck, down her collarbone-

"I'm overwhelmed by so much, Damon." She said, breaking his train of thought. "That kiss isn't on the list."

Groaning with longing and the fight that he was waging internally about keeping her inside this house and making her his, over and over. "Not helping, Abi," he said in a strangled voice. "I need to find you some suitable clothes and come to take you out into your new world. Tempting though it may be to stay locked in your castle."

Abigail knew he was right, but that kiss and the one that followed broke loose something. They wanted each other, so badly that she shook with need. She needed to learn about this new version of Mystic Falls, however, and it appeared he was volunteering as her guide.

"Fine," she said in a pout. She moved away and let him stand. "One stipulation, Damon."

He stood and looked at her, waiting.

"No pants, please?" She asked, thinking of the tight fit that woman with the pram was wearing and cringing.

His smile was breathtaking. "No pants." He assured her, dropping a light kiss on her lips. "I will be back soon, Princess. And I'll bring you some food, you must be hungry."

She was, but not for food. As he left her, her smile held. Abigail Morgan was awake and she planned to make her new life fully lived.


	36. Chapter 36

Mystic Falls, VA Late January 2010

Damon left and collected his car from the house. He went to find the only person he could think of for advice for what he needed, who also wouldn't ask unnecessary questions. Pearl's daughter, Anna. She was skulking around Elena's brother and the two of them were too adorable for words.

Luckily he caught her outside the school, about to embark on a new life of her own. Calling her over, he told her what he needed, noticing for the first time she was close to the same size as Abigail. Still slightly taller, she would do for a shopping partner.

While Anna looked curious, she shrugged it off and took him to the mall. Passing by the offerings of stores with names that caused him to cringe, as she was leading him from store to store, a dress finally caught his eye. It was shorter than she'd ever worn, and it showed more of her back and shoulders than he'd ever really seen her show, but it was THE dress.

"Who's this for?" She asked, as he asked her to choose it in a size closest to hers. "I'm not the same size as Katherine and Elena, so who's the mystery woman?"

As he moved to another store, contemplating heavily on the finer points of Victoria's Secret, and getting sidetracked by need for Abigail for a moment he pushed past. Shoes, he thought, I'll focus on shoes and send Anna for her lingerie.

"Never you mind," he answered finally, gesturing to the vivid pink and black storefront that would be his undoing. "Could you, please, pick out a few pairs of panties. Same size as the dress." He was walking away, but heard her rebuttal.

"Even you know that's not how they're sized, Damon." He chuckled until she left him speechless with the next question. "Do you have mystery woman's bra size, or do I skip those?"

His mouth went dry. The dress, carefully wrapped in the bag he held was strapless and had a defined bodice. Her breasts had always been under so many layers, but would be on perfect display. Close and tempting. He shook his head and answered, knowing she could hear him, "No, but pick up a jacket, that size you can guess."

She laughed behind his back. Whomever the mystery woman was and she had a fair idea, she had Damon Salvatore tied in knots.

The shoe store was overflowing with options. Would Abigail want the comfort of a canvas sneaker or the familiarity of low cut booties? He smiled wistfully at a pair of heels he'd kill to see her wear, but put those on hold for now. He wasn't worried about sizing her shoes, he'd held her feet in his hands enough to know the exact size and shape. Hazard of dancing at too many parties, and the dresses that made reaching down so difficult.

Unable to choose, Damon picked both and then tossed in a pair of dress flats for good measure. Better to allow her some choice, he thought, remembering her irritation with Emily's choices.

Doubling back to meet Anna, he found her holding three bags. Quirking an eyebrow, at her abundance of bags, she shook her head. Men.

"One bag," she said, holding up the smallest, "has the articles you requested. This one, she held up a slightly larger bag, has things that a woman would like to have access to on her vanity." She gave it a shake and he could hear liquid sloshing inside. "I grabbed some socks, hose, brush, comb, perfume." She showed the larger bag and he already knew it held the jackets. Nodding his understanding, they walked back to his car.

Anna really was curious if she was correct about the identity of the mystery woman. As he drove her back to the school, she contemplated his temperament.

"It's Abigail Morgan, isn't it?" She blurted, watching his profile and noticing the clench of his jaw. "I won't tell anyone, Damon, I just thought it might be her."

A curt nod was all the confirmation she received. Abigail Morgan had been an enigma to her when they'd arrived in Mystic Falls in the 1860s. Her bearing, looking so regal, but she was filled with warmth and acceptance. She recalled seeing her walk through town, shopping, yet stopping to speak to not only those of her own station, but to slaves and servants running errands. Anna watched in awe when this young woman spoke to field hands and the mayor in the same warm and open matter. She had been so different from the others.

"I hope she likes what we chose," Anna offered as he stopped to let her out.

"Thank you," he offered, and she knew it covered everything.

Nodding she joined her fellow classmates. She'd need to compel her skipping, but it was worth it. Seeing Damon Salvatore go breathless at the mere mention of bras would carry her though days of ill humor.

MORGAN HOUSE

"Are you quiet certain this constitutes as a dress in the present?" Abigail's voice, coming from behind a set of changing screens made him smile. "There seems to be quite a bit missing."

"It's all there, Abi." He assured her, fighting the urge to duck behind and see the finished vision for himself.

He heard a loud sigh, and then felt his mouth go dry again when she asked, "And the, did you call them panties? Are you sure I'm meant to wear just one at a time?"

The thought of her in whatever panties Anna had chosen was making him distracted. Groaning with the same longing, he begged her to come out, assuring her one pair was more than enough.

"Fine," she said with petulance. "But if I'm run out of town for being shameless, it's on your head."

She moved and was in full view. The breath knocked from his lungs. The dress was perfect. Strapless, her breasts were pushed up with the tightness of the bodice. Torturing him with the view it presented. A pinched waist, the knee length skirt flared. Her legs, always a mystery because even her nightgowns had been floor length, were surprisingly toned. Bare feet and hair swinging loose to her hips, Abigail Morgan was heartstopping. Thank God he was already dead.

"Well?" She asked, looking completely unsure. "It's disgraceful, isn't it?"

He shook his head to clear it and answer her. "The ONLY disgrace is having to wait this long to see you in it." His voice sounded choked, which he was. Choked with need. Every slice of skin left uncovered beckoned to be tasted. And he was aching to accept. "If you'd prefer, in the larger bag are some jackets. They'll offer more cover." Part of him wished against her taking the offer, another thought his sanity required it.

She nodded taking the larger bag off the chest sitting at the foot of her bed. She pulled out the two jackets. One was fitted leather, the other looser denim. Turning to him with furrowed brow, she held them up for his inspection. "It would appear that I am at the mercy of your superior knowledge of the styles of this time." She looked adorable in her confusion and he wanted to help.

"The leather," he replied, it was more fitted, but it would set the dress off perfectly. Anna had chosen a light grey color and when Abi set the denim down to pull on her preference, he stopped her. "Allow me?" Moving the heavy length of her hair to lay over her left shoulder, he removed the tag from the back of her dress first. "Let's make sure you look perfect, shall we?" He saw the goosebumps on her skin and heard her pulse speed up. Running the fingertips of his right hand slowly up her arm and across her shoulder, he felt her skin flush with warmth. "I love this dress on you, Abigail." His voice was husky with need. "I love it because it shows this," his fingertips traced up her neck, then down the part of her spine left uncovered. He heard her swallow. "Because if it shows it, then I can taste it." Leaning forward he let his lips follow the path from where her shoulder met her neck, flicking his tongue gently as he passed her pulse point and smiling at her gasp. "I love the taste of you, Abigail Morgan." His lips ran down the back of her neck and he felt more gooseflesh, more heat. Kissing lightly, he ran his tongue down the bumps of her spine and felt her knees shake, so he moved his left arm around to hold her up. "Should I stop, Abi?" He needed her to stop him, with words, because he wanted her so badly his body felt like fire.

Abigail swallowed again. Did she want him to stop? NEVER! But should they stop? Yes, unfortunately. She needed to fulfill a promise she made to her papa and while the image of Damon taking everything he promised to take was distracting and more than welcome-she needed to focus.

"We should probably pause this," she said, need heavy in her tone. "Not forever, but I do need to leave the house. I have an errand to run."

It worked, breaking the spell enough for him to remove the jacket's tags and help her into it. She turned and pulled his head down for a kiss that held the promise of more. Just not right now.

Choosing her shoes, the canvas sneakers that he stepped back to allow her to put on herself. He didn't trust himself to touch her bare legs. Stopping may prove impossible. He smiled as she stood before him in her new outfit asking his opinion.

"Perfect, of course." He said. "Your hair-"

Her eyes widened in fear of what he might suggest for her hair. She fought the urge to clutch it to her.

"Do you need help putting it up?" He asked, seeing her fear. "I wouldn't dare suggest any changes, Abi. I just wanted to know if you had ever put it up or styled it yourself before?"

Ah yes, that would be an issue. She'd always had Sallie to brush and arrange it for her. Seeing him pick up another bag, she watched him pull out a brush, comb, and some types of pins and clips. She took the brush from him and ran it through her curls, happy to find no tangles. He handed her something stretchy and circular. Quirking her eyebrow, he smiled and took the brush from her.

"I'm no lady's maid, but I think I can manage a ponytail." Damon said, using the brush to pull her hair into a smooth clutch high on the crown of her head. Making sure her hair was out of her face, he stretched the band and used it to wrap around the clutch. Even pulled high, her hair was still midway down her back.

"There," he said, and pulled her to the full length mirror in the corner. He stood behind her as she studied herself. "You look like a modern young woman, Abi."

Abigail had to admit, once she got over the scandalous length and the exposure of her new dress, with the jacket and the comfortable shoes, she did look nice. Her hair, did he call this style a ponytail? Was nice too. Feeling better about the complete picture, she returned his smile.

"Ready to venture outside?" He asked, almost wishing she'd say no, so he could keep her to himself longer.

She nodded and turned to him. Stepping closer, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face against his chest. His arms returned her embrace automatically. Kissing the top of her head, he waited her to be fully ready. She said she had an errand, and he had a goal as her guide to Mystic Falls 2010- help her in any way she needed.

She pulled back and smiled up at him. "Let's go."

And Damon, taking her hand in his, was determined to keep his goal's aim on track.


	37. Chapter 37

Mystic Falls, VA~ Late January 2010

Abigail was perched tensely on the seat beside Damon, looking as comfortable as if she'd been seated on a pincushion or a ticking time bomb.

"Relax, Abigail," he said, reaching over to take her hand. "Car travel isn't that different from horse drawn."

She allowed him her hand, but shot him an incredulous look. "Not much different?!" Her voice was strained. "We're traveling at breakneck speeds, in a roaring box on wheels, with no discernable means to explain our movement. I find your logic extremely faulty, Damon."

"Then let's take your mind off of it." He offered, as he drove toward the spot where her home had once stood. "Ask me all those questions you're burning to ask."

Her hand's grip tightened on his as he made a sharp turn. "OK, I've been away for over one hundred years. Aside from the clothes and the transportation, what else has changed?"

He smiled and launched into an explanation about air travel, cell phones, computers, and all the things she would be most interested in learning about. He handed her his cellphone, and watched as she played with the screen, learning the ins and outs of at least one technological marvel. She was a fast learner, and mastered the apps one by one, finding the photo gallery app finally. She was swiping through his photos when she came to one that made her gasp.

Closing his eyes and swallowing a curse, he'd forgotten the selfie with Elena in Atlanta. "Abigail, it isn't what you think."

"Then explain, Damon." She whispered, handing his phone back and fighting tears. "Katherine's alive then?"

Shit, he'd wanted more time to prepare her, but here she was going straight for the most uncomfortable truths first. "Yes, but that photo isn't her."

He could feel her staring at him and knew she expected more information. "Her name is Elena Gilbert. She's Stefan's girlfriend, Abigail." The dark chuckle that ripped from her throat warned him, but knowing she could see through any deception kept him talking. "She is, Abigail. They're happy, even after she learned what he is."

"Why are you here, Damon?" She asked, knowing he would understand she meant Mystic Falls, now. "If you aren't lying about the year, and we both know I'd know if you were, then you spent nearly 150 years away. What brought you back?" She felt the darkness, pressing down, choking her with certainty that pain was coming.

He swallowed hard and took a long, deep breath. Steeling himself, knowing he was about to hurt them both. "I came back to free Katherine from the tomb under Fells' Church." He said it in a rush, hoping the purge would make it easier, faster. "Emily didn't just save you, she saved Katherine."

Silently she allowed her tears to fall. She still needed more, a deeper cut, perhaps to finally cleave them in two. "And did you? Free Katherine, I mean." She was pleased that her voice had regained steadiness at least.

"She wasn't inside." He confessed. "She had made another plan, with the mayor's son. She was never inside."

And so, Abigail concluded, he'd transferred those feelings to Elena. Once again brothers obsessed with the same woman, terrifyingly identical to the first. And she was left an afterthought, again.

"How long have you known I was still trapped?" She asked, guessing that he'd made an assumption about her freedom.

"Almost five months," his voice was barely audible, but was clearly confirmation.

"Stop the car, Damon." She demanded, not raising her voice, not needing to. "Now."

He slowed down and pulled over to the safety of the shoulder of the road. He noticed that her cheeks were damp and knew he was the cause. "Abigail," he tried, but with one hand she silenced him.

"No," she said, sounding frighteningly reasonable. "Don't, Damon, I need to have my say, and then I'll continue on to my errand, alone."

His heart clenched, she was finished. He'd finally done it, ruined every single chance at real happiness.

"I was trapped, alone except for shadows of everyone I'd lost. For 146 years I dealt with my grief, pain, guilt, frustration, fear, and anger without distraction, without visitors, without you." She glanced up and captured his gaze. "I assume you thought I had freed myself long ago, but I don't know if that's the truth or a prayer that you didn't completely forget me. I'm lying to myself, aren't I?" She smiled sadly at the tightening of his eyes. "If I learned anything from dealing with all that emotional baggage, it's that those lies do nothing and don't end well." She opened the passenger door, but before she stepped out, she cut off his final hope for the two of them. "I've been in this story before, Damon. You and Stefan absolutely obsessed with Katherine or Elena. I'm not the heroine of this tale, I'm the victim. I won't allow it to happen to me again." She stepped out of the car. "Thank you, for the short guide to my new reality and for the clothes. Goodbye, Damon, and consider the invitation to my home rescinded."

She turned and walked regally across the field they were parked beside. Her former homestead wasn't far, and he knew she'd be safe. As he watched her leave him behind he had to wonder if he was a self fulfilling prophecy of what his father always believed about him. Because he clearly ruined the one good thing left for him.


	38. Chapter 38

Mystic Falls, VA~ Late January 2010

Abigail refused to focus on what happened in the car with Damon or the pain welling up inside her heart. She had a goal and she needed to take care of it. She had made a promise to her papa after all.

She walked through the field that she'd been dropped off beside, feeling the closeness of where she'd grown to the age of thirteen. Allowing her intuition to guide her, she found herself entering the thicket of trees. She followed it onward to another clearing. Here, she realized was where the house had once stood.

Her papa had said she would find what she was searching for in the place they'd last said goodbye. The library, obviously. She moved forward, feeling a pull drawing her on. Allowing herself to be led, she moved easily through the overgrown grass. Stopping when the pull ended, she looked down, trying to find the place it could be hidden. Kicking the grass aside with the toe of her shoe, she felt something harder than packed dirt.

Abigail stooped down, using her hands to move along where her foot had felt the difference. There. Was that a piece of wood? Using her fingers to pry upward, she freed a small wooden chest that was embedded in the grass and dirt. Smiling she headed back to her new home.

She had managed one goal. Now she could go home and try to find out what she was. Then, if she found time, she could have a cry over Damon. The best way to deal with her emotional blockage, was to simply set a plan and keep to it. She hoped.

Damon was brooding. Stefan noticed. Elena noticed. Ric noticed. No one knew what brought it on. He'd left the house at noon, been gone for hours, and returned in what everyone saw as misery.

"Damon," Stefan asked, standing in the open doorway of his brother's bedroom. "What happened to you today?"

Blue eyes shooting daggers at him, he grimaced. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with, brother. Shouldn't you and your girlfriend be contending with her parentage or your urge to rip apart coeds?"

Stefan's return glare made him feel vindication. "Sorry, too soon? Still trying to pretend you're not ready to go on a full on blood bender?"

"Why is this always your answer when you've been hurt?" Stefan asked turning away. "Lashing out at everyone else and being a dick?"

Damon waited until Stefan was gone from his view, then he reached into the drawer in his bedside table. Inside held something no one knew about. A silver frame holding a photograph he'd talked Abigail into having made before he joined the war. Her small smile, the fall of her hair, and even in the washed out color of the photo, he could see the green of her eyes. This was as close as he'd ever get to her again. The urge to throw the frame, to smash and destroy it came and went. His destructive tendencies may be overwhelming, he would never relinquish this treasure.

So wrapped up in his hidden treasure, he didn't notice Elena watching from the doorway. Gazing forlornly at the silver frame that he'd pulled from the drawer next to his bed. That she saw the pain, the human pain in his eyes, made her want to see who's photo the frame held.


	39. Chapter 39

Morgan House~February 2010

Abigail took the time she had since leaving Damon's car to search her house. And thank goodness she had. In a desk, in what would eventually become her library, she found all the paperwork detailing her inheritance.

Reading through the papers, she felt some stress relief. Her parents had stipulated that, should their daughter's whereabouts become unknown or she become unaccessible, her monetary assets would be relocated into a savings account, to be moved to any local bank that remained open until such a time as she, or her descendents came forward to claim it. So she still had money, she just had to consider how to find identification for retrieving it. The deed for her house was inside, the land she owned, and a set of keys. Perhaps a safe was to be found?

One of the keys, a small one, opened the wooden chest she'd brought back from the location of her former home. Opening it, she found her mother's jewelry, a golden circlet she'd never seen before, and beneath these, a book. Leatherbound and journal-like, she opened it expecting an explanation of what her father had alluded to, perhaps in his hand, about her parents' past. She found herself mistaken. Because the book wasn't a journal, not really, instead it was a grimoire. Filled with pictures of plants and objects that looked interesting if a bit odd, along with detailed instructions for potions and spells. Flipping through the pages, she hoped to find some snippet to explain what this meant. As she flipped, a folded stash of paper fell out. Unfolding it, she finally found her explanation.

Now if only she could make her mind accept it.

Elena knew what she was doing was dangerous. Sneaking into Damon's room, searching his belongings, if she were caught there really was no telling how he'd react. But she had to. Between this new more human suffering Damon, Stefan's rapidly failing attempts to hid his struggle for control, and everything else she was dealing with, knowing what had brought him so low was at least a distraction.

Ric was with Damon, drinking at the Grille, and she wasn't sure where Stefan was, but the drawer in Damon's room called to her. Opening it, she saw the back of the silver frame on top and carefully pulled it out. Turning it over, she half expected to see her own face staring back at her. His obsession with Katherine made the most sense, so she was confused when she saw a completely new face. Was this Abigail Morgan?

She studied this new face. She was so dainty, almost elfin. Her hair was lighter than Elena expected, and so were her eyes. Why was Damon suddenly so fascinated with Abigail? He'd been adamant that she meant nothing to him.

Elena had become just as focused on Abigail's photo as Damon had been. Mesmerized by the young woman who had so much mystery surrounding her. Stefan had been obsessed with her. Damon clearly cared for her.

She didn't hear Stefan approach her until he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"Damon will lose his mind if he catches you in here." He whispered in her ear and she felt the familiar pull of her love for him. "What do you have there?"

He'd obviously seen the photo. She handed it to him. He was smiling sadly at the picture in the frame as she turned to face him. "That's Abigail isn't it?" She asked, watching his face.

"Yeah. That's her." He handed it back to her. "Put it back where you found it and tell me what's going on."

Elena did as he requested and took his hand so he could lead her to his room. Sitting on the bed, she explained. "I caught Damon looking at that picture, Stefan. He was so focused he didn't even notice me."

Stefan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "He was that fascinated by it?"

"Not fascinated, Stefan." She said, looking up at him. "Tortured by it. Why would he suddenly care?"

And it clicked. His brother had left the house for hours. When he came back and was suddenly so completely aggravated.

"She's awake." He whispered, realization dawning. "That's why, Elena. She's awake and she sent him away."

Elena's face registered the same shock as her boyfriend's. "Why wouldn't he share that with us?"

Stefan smiled at her naivety in regards to Damon's ways. "My brother doesn't show weakness, Elena. He doesn't take rejection well. And he was protecting her from me." He held Elena's hand and explained to her how his obsession with Abigail had caused so much angst and pain. "I forced him to transition, Elena. I used Abi and his hunger from fighting it so long. He abstained and I took advantage to force him to turn." Closing his eyes he remembered the pain in his brother's eyes as he allowed the thirst to take over. The fear, of him and his plans for Abigail, so clear.

"You and Damon have such a complicated relationship." Such an understatement. "He loves her, doesn't he?"

Stefan nodded. "My father may have chosen me for her, but the entire town knew that Damon and Abigail loved each other. To them it was a forgone conclusion. Everyone knew it, but I don't think either of them declared it."

"Why not?" Elena asked, moving to rest against his chest.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure." He had often wonder the same thing. "If you could have seen them together, dancing especially, you would know immediately. Them always moved in tandem, always, but on the dance floor? It was undeniable." It dawned on him that flush with human blood he could show her. "I could show you."

She offered him her hand and closed her eyes when he told her to. As her mind relaxed she was transported to the 1860s. A party, clearly, she watched with Stefan beside her as a slow, deliberate song began. The dance floor had been crowded with dancers, but one by one they slowed, giving up the room to a far superior couple. Damon wore his hair longer, flopping across his forehead. Elena's gaze, first finding Damon, soon settled on the young woman he was stood in front of. They weren't touching, their hands inches apart, and although his partner was barely five foot tall, she stood so proud and straight backed that a crown should have sat on her heavily curled head. Together they were captivating. Stefan was right, anyone watching would assume they were together. The dance changed and his arms encircled her in an embrace. Did she imagine the spark between them?

Stefan released her from his memory. "See, obvious." He chuckled. "I would have assumed a lot about their relationship, but I lived in the same house. They NEVER acted on it."

"Never?" Elena had the strangest feeling that she had been a voyeur to something intimate, even with the crowd of party goers. "That dance was incredibly intimate."

"Trust me, NEVER." He said with another laugh. "I don't think they ever kissed."

"If they felt like that and everyone knew-" She was shocked.

"Then why did my father pick me?" Stefan understood her line of curiosity. "If my relationship with my brother is complicated, then Damon and my father's relationship was Shakespearean tragedy."

"He'd deny them their love?" She felt disgusted.

"He'd deny Damon a great deal."

Elena found the past interesting, but if Stefan was correct and Abigail was awake. And alone, now that she and Damon had their issues.

"Should we check on her?" She asked, finally showing the compassion he she had in abundance.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "She was terrified of me to the point that she ended up trapped in her own mind, and you look exactly like the person who tried to kill her twice."

"She's alone, Stefan." Elena reminded him. "She doesn't have to let us in, we can just check on her."

He nodded, seeing Abigail free and safe would also give him some peace, too. "Let's go."


	40. Chapter 40

Morgan House~ February 2010

Abigail had found the safe. It was hidden in the room Damon had chosen for her. Unlocking it with one of the keys on the keyring she'd found in the desk drawer, she found a clutch of papers that made less sense than the letter she'd found in the grimoire.

Somehow she had identification. New, modern if the look and feel of them were any indication. Virginia State identification card, social security card, and banking information, plastic cards that had her name on them as well. How they came to be hidden in this safe was another mystery. Add it to her growing list.

Contemplating a trip to the bank to use her newly acquired IDs, she wasn't surprised to hear a knock on the front door. Groaning loudly and expecting Damon to be waiting, she walked slowly downstairs. As she approached the door, she called out a warning to him, reminding him that she didn't want to see him.

"Damon, I told you, your invitation was rescinded." Opening the door, she felt her eyes widening as she encountered a different Salvatore and the woman from the photo on Damon's phone.

"Ah." She said, stepping out of reach, just in case. "Unexpected guests."

"Abi," Stefan said, surprised to see her standing in front of him wearing a pretty short dress and Keds.

"Stefan." She replied, no fear present in her countenance. "And Elena Gilbert." She nodded politely to his companion. "To what do I owe this, I can't honestly say pleasure, visit."

Standing in front of her, Elena was struck by how tiny she was, yet her bearing was so regal. Even displeasure didn't make her face unattractive. She didn't offer them entrance, and Elena could appreciate the caution.

"We wanted to check on you." Elena offered.

Returning her attention to the Gilbert girl, Abigail was amazed to find she was being sincere. Odd on the face of Katherine Pierce.

"Does it ever feel wrong to be with someone whose looks are identical to her, but her personality is entirely different, Stefan?" She asked, still studying Elena. Not allowing him a chance to answer, she answered the girl's concern. "Thank you for your concern. I'm fine. Used to being alone. I've had 146 years to grow accustomed."

She moved to shut the door. "He's miserable." Stefan offered. "It's how I realized you were awake. Elena caught him staring at a photo of you he's had hidden away all this time."

She glanced into the eyes of the boy she'd barely known. He became a monster once, but now, standing before her was the young man he should have been. The one she'd believed she could have grown to love, or at least live with for a lifetime.

"I'm sorry, Stefan." She answered, going for nonchalant, but hearing her own pain. "He never thought of me after he ran from this town, and he admitted to returning only for HER. If he's miserable, which I'm certain he'd recover from soon enough, he's earned it. Now, as lovely as this visit hasn't been, I have some errands to attend to, and you're keeping me."

Stefan nodded. Arguing with Abigail would get them nowhere. "Goodbye, Abi." He said, turning away. "I am happy you're safe and back."

He caught her curt nod as she shut the door. Elena glanced at him, but saw that he wasn't going to speak just yet. Getting in their vehicle, and starting back, he finally answered.

"Arguing gets you nowhere with Abigail." He said, shaking his head when she wanted to argue. "I lived in the same house with her, Elena. Damon never won an argument with her. Other than once."

"When your mother was dying." Elena remembered Damon's story coming back from Atlanta. "He told him about being on the same page with your father for once."

Stefan nodded, remembering the pain of losing his mother. "That was the only time, and I think it was simply because it was less argument and more grief."

Elena understood. Her next question was one he had no answer for, however. "How do we fix this?"

1st National Bank of Mystic Falls

Abigail smiled at the teller standing before her as the woman checked her identification against the bank documents.

"Everything is in order, Miss Morgan. Your balance will be at the bottom of your receipt, but if you'd like to make an appointment to speak with an account manager to check your other accounts we can make those arrangements as well." Her smile was generic, but Abigail maintained her dignity.

"Thank you, Sara. I'll set an appointment at a later date." She took the envelope containing her money and IDs and turned to leave. She needed to shop for more clothes, and look into a cell phone like Damon had shown her how to use. Where to first?

Exiting the bank, she felt a pang of hunger. Food then. Glancing around she noticed a building with a sign reading "Mystic Grille". Promising if the smells wafting toward her from its direction, she crossed the street, careful of cars. The smell of cooking food grew as she moved closer to the door.

Entering, she took a moment to adjust to the change in light and the noise. Ugh, these people and the need for music, banging, clanging all the time. A young blonde man in a shirt sporting the name of the establishment over his heart.

"Table, booth, or bar?" He asked, smile genuine.

Biting her lip, she allowed him to pick. He gestured for him to follow her and pulled out a stool at the bar for her to sit on.

"Sorry, but my boss prefers single customers here, unless you ask for different arrangements."

"It's fine, thank you." She smiled as he handed her the menu. She was focused on ignoring the noise, and studying the overwhelming amount of choices offered on the menu that she didn't realize she was being watched.

From a table behind where Matt had seated her, Damon sat with Ric who had forced him out of the house. Nursing a bourbon, he had turned as soon as she entered and watched her progress to her seat. She was still wearing the dress he'd picked out, this time she'd paired it with the denim jacket and boots. She'd also managed to braid her hair into a long rope over her shoulder. God, she was beautiful.

Ric's eyes followed his. She was a tiny thing. Her hair was long enough to hang to her waist, even braided. He couldn't see her face, but Damon was locked on her.

"Do I need to rescue that young woman from your clutches, Damon?" He teased, knowing that whatever was bothering Damon could end up making him dangerous to unwitting strangers.

When Damon pulled his eyes from the girl's back, and locked onto Ric's, his friend saw a pain he'd never seen on the other's face. "If there is any one person in this God forsaken town that's completely safe from me, it's her."

"Who is she, Damon?" Ric asked, watching the torment on Damon's face as she interacted with Matt. Taking her drink and ordering lunch.

"She was the dream," he said, knocking back his drink. "And she despises me."

Ric gestured to a passing waitress, signally for another round. "What's her name? And why haven't I ever heard about her?"

Damon wanted to get up and leave, but he felt rooted to his seat. He watched as Abigail interacted with Donavan. Her easy smile, which he got a flash of when she realized her stool could spin, and the light in her eyes at the ease she was finding in fitting in made it impossible. When she sat, asking the useless blonde questions about the menu's offerings while sipping ice water, Damon choked out the tragic backstory to Ric. Everything from meeting to their last encounter.

Ric listened, not only to the story, but to the pain he heard in Damon's voice. Damon, the vampire he equated with all the bad traits that he fought against, was sounding incredibly human.

Damon finished the tragic tale of love and loss, and knocked back another drink. Abigail had settled on a simple salad, and he watched as Donavan was joined by Caroline in keeping her company. If he chose, he could eavesdrop, but even he had limits on what he'd do. Especially since she asked him to stay away.

"Why are you sitting here, moping?" Ric asked, darting attention between the two. "You love her, you dumbass. Fight for her."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "She told me to stay away, Ric. And she always gets what she wants."

Ric rolled his eyes. "She's pissed because you gave in, Damon." He was amazed by how easily Damon was rolling over. ""Women, especially those in love for as long as she's been, want to come first. You failed her and admitted to it. Now you grovel and plead with her for forgiveness. If that doesn't work, presents. If that doesn't work, you find the one thing she wants more than you, and give it to her. The point is, dick, don't give up."

Damon, still watching as Abigail effortlessly charmed Caroline, Donavan, and anyone who came into her orbit, was listening to Ric's advice. Weighing it against their conversations since he transitioned, he realized her issues were obvious. Everything had gone downhill as soon as she saw the picture with Elena. And, of course his confession about Katherine.

"Dammit." He snarled at himself. "Giving up isn't really my style anyway." His swagger coming back, slowly but surely. He was considering how to bring her around to even entertaining the sight of him. "Abigail is notoriously headstrong, Ric. How do you fight for someone who won't even allow you in her orbit?"

While Abigail sat barely ten feet away from Damon, Ric educated his pal on how to break through to an angry, hurt lover. And for once, his friend paid attention, because if there was any possibility of getting Abigail back into his arms, then he'd do it.


	41. Chapter 41

Mystic Grille, February 2010

Abigail found herself enjoying her lunch far more than she had expected. Matt Donavan, the blonde waiter who'd sat her at the bar was genuinely nice. Instead of finding her confusion over the menu offerings or the spinning stool, he took it in stride.

"There are far too many choices," she mused. "Do you have anything simple? Salad greens with cold chicken, perhaps?" She was yearning for something familiar in this jarring new time.

"I think we can manage that." He answered with a smile. "Are you sure about the plain water? We have soda, tea?"

"Water's fine, thank you, Matt." She said, returning his smile.

As he walked to the kitchen to put in her order he saw Caroline come in, pointing to his section and the bar, she nodded and walked over to where Abigail was seated.

"Is this seat taken?" A pretty blonde with shoulder length hair asked.

"No," Abigail answered shyly.

The blonde gave her her full attention and announced, "You're new in town. Visiting, tourist, or relocation?" Her smile took the sting out of her overt curiosity.

Abigail studied the girl. Her inquisitiveness wasn't out of rudeness, she just liked to know the current state of her little town. Smart and sensible.

"Abigail Morgan," she said, holding out her hand. "Let's go with relocation."

The blonde's eyes lit up. ""Caroline Forbes, sheriff's daughter. Are you going to be staying in Morgan House?" As they shook hands Abigail felt herself drawn to this girl. She was as genuine as Matt.

"It is my house, so…" Abigail offered, allowing her lunch companion to wrap her mind around the news.

"I understand that, I suppose," the bubbly blonde replied, smile still in place. "It's just, doesn't it need work?"

Abigail focused on Caroline, the question about the house's condition wasn't what she planned to ask. Clearly this girl had other concerns about Abi's home.

"Undoubtedly," she answered. Curiosity peaked. "I'll be taking care of it, but first I have some other errands." She smiled as Matt returned with her food.

"Abigail is moving into Morgan House, Matt. Isn't that amazing?" Caroline was saying. Abigail could hear the leading tone and waited to see his reaction.

Discomfort, that was as plain as the blonde boy took in the news. What were they worried about? Clearly something to do with the house. Maybe they had seen someone go inside, could they know her benefactor?

As Abigail ate and allowed the young people control over the conversation, she wondered if she could find something in her mother's spellbook to make the truth come out. Her mind flashed to the letter, it's revelation about her family and what she truly was. She followed Caroline and Matt's conversation, interest peaked when she heard familiar names.

"Did you say you know a Bennett?" Abigail's fork remained poised with the final bite of her delicious salad waiting. Seeing her companions still, she smiled reassuringly. "My family has old journals in my home. I read the name and it must have stuck."

Still a bit uncomfortable, Matt and Caroline chose to believe her. "Bonnie," Caroline answered, smiling. "She's one of my best friends."

Abigail realized she was wasting time beating about the proverbial bush. All she really needed was to simply ask the appropriate questions. She was new in town, they had answers, all she needed was her natural talent to get to know those in her orbit.

"One of your best friends?" Abigail tried sounding merely interested in finding others close to her age. She popped the last bite of her lunch into her mouth and chewed.

Matt gave a rather uncomfortable chuckle. "Yeah, our friend group keeps growing."

Arching her eyebrow in curiosity, she asked, "Growing?" Swallowing her bite and taking a drink. "Like me, I hope?" She smiled at the two of them to show the truth of her words. They were nice kids.

"Some more welcome than others." Caroline muttered. Seeing a flash of hurt cross Abi's face, she rushed to clarify. "Not you, you seem nice. There's been others. Long story."

Abigail gave the other woman a sweet smile. "I have a bit of time left before I have to go around with my errands."

She listened carefully as Caroline unleashed a tirade against Damon Salvatore. He was duplicitous. He used people. On and on it went. Matt had hustled off to get Caroline's meal and to wait on his other tables. Shooting Abi sympathetic looks for her having to sit through his girlfriend's rant. A rant she'd unleashed on purpose.

"So this Damon?" Abigail hoped her voice didn't catch. "He's a bad addition to the town, but it sounds like you have others?"

Caroline had stopped speaking, taking a breath that allowed Abi to finally ask another question and hopefully get her away from Damon's vileness. A wrinkle formed in Caroline's forehead. "Yes, there are others." She smiled. "But the rest are more welcome. Damon's younger brother Stefan, he's dating my other best friend, Elena Gilbert."

Abigail nodded her encouragement. Caroline was a font of information. A little nudge and she'd unleash a wealth of her feelings and observations. "Stefan is the exact opposite of Damon." She looked almost dreamy. Dear lord, she wanted him. Poor Matt.

Abigail found Caroline's rant of Damon balm for her abused soul, but trying to rectify the Stefan her new friend was gushing about with the one who had presented her with his "courting gift" was beyond difficult. Even having seen him with Elena at her house, seemingly free of whatever demon had controlled him, she still wasn't entirely convinced.

"Stefan," her voice sounded calm thankfully. "Sounds great!" Jesus, the pep in her own voice terrified her. "Are there more than the Salvatores?"

Caroline was momentarily sidetracked by Matt bringing her ood. Giving him a peck of a kiss, she dug into her food with the same carefulness of Abi's upbringing. Chewing carefully, she answered after swallowing. "Sorry, starving." Abigail smiled in understanding. "Yeah, there've been others. Alaric Saltzman, our history teacher. He had to replace the one who passed away."

Abi tutted her condolences. "Animal attack." Caroline noticed Abi's widened eyes and took it for fear and shock, not for the realization that the resident vampires weren't under complete control. "Don't worry, they caught the mountain lion."

Compulsion, it was clear to Abigail. Caroline had been compelled. Possibly Matt as well. Curious. Tilting her head, Abigail tempted something she had never tried, but having read her mother's explanation for who and what they were, she decided to give it a go. Infusing her voice with as much power as she could, she asked the question she really wanted to have answered.

"Caroline, what made you so uncomfortable about my house?" Abigail's voice sounded the same, but she felt the power flowing through her words.

Caroline didn't take on the look of someone being compelled. Her eyes stayed clear and focused, and her voice didn't sound any different when she answered.

"Because I know that the football team breaks into Morgan House every year on Devil's Night." Abigail raised an eyebrow, even though she'd thought she heard Damon muttering about the state of her back servant's entrance, she hadn't thought about this type of violation. "They say that a real life sleeping beauty inside. She lays in the only room that looks made up. A friend of ours, Tyler Lockwood says he touched her. She's warm and breathing, but doesn't react. I was worried that you would have found her, or noticed the jimmied door."

Abigail shook her head. "So you were worried about some ghost story and the fact that your friends broke into my house." She considered the explanation and decided that it made sense. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Caroline. Not to worry, no ghosts and I don't care that rambunctious teenagers decided to use my house as a dare. It's a new day, after all." She smiled and Caroline returned it.

"It's so easy to talk to you, Abigail." She said, as Matt returned with Abi's check. "Put my number in your cell so we can keep in touch. And Matt's too."

"Actually, I lost my phone. It's one of my errands, but hunger called to me first." The blonde girl tutted and wrote two sets of numbers on a paper napkin. "When you get your replacement, put these in." Matt nodded his agreement and Abigail smiled. "We're your first friends in Mystic Falls, and I'd hate to lose touch."

Abigail kept her smile and took the check that Matt had placed in front of her. Seeing the price and having noticed the extra money people were leaving behind, she handed him a fifty dollar bill. He went toward the till, but Abi stopped him.

"Keep the rest, Matt." Abigail called, noticing his shocked reaction she realized she'd given him far more than he expected. "You've done such a wonderful job of feeding and welcoming me, I think you're more than worth it."

"It's more than double your check, Abigail." He said, clearly uncomfortable with the amount she was offering.

She sighed heavily. "Would paying for Caroline's meal and giving you the rest be more amenable, Matt?" His smile returned, clearly that worked. "Then cover Caroline's check as well. And thank you both, but I must be off."

Abi hopped down from her stool and left. She didn't notice that she was still being watched. The noise of the Grille making her want to get outside now that she was no longer distracted by her lunch companions. Outside in the fresh air and with far less noise to overwhelm her, she began walking down the street.

She kept her eye out for a storefront that looked like it offered a phone that looked like Damon's or a clothing store to expand her wardrobe. She passed a library and thought about stopping, but moved on. Later, she decided. A bright flashing storefront offered various phone options. Crossing the street, Abigail headed for the obnoxiously bright store. She opened the door and a young woman approached her.

After a cheerful greeting, the woman asked what Abi needed. Was she a current customer or was she interested in 'switching carriers'. Abigail went with honesty. She was a new customer entirely. She could tell that this excited the woman. Reading her was incredibly easy, she clearly wanted a sale so she could make more money.

The woman flitted about the store, showing phones and explaining features and other technological words that Abi had no concept of understanding. Finally, just to quiet the blathering, she picked one that looked the most like the phone she'd gotten to know with Damon.

Launching into another round of decisions, the woman inundated her with options for 'plans'. Abigail held up a hand and asked for the best plan, then allowed the woman to activate the phone, paying after what felt like an eternity, Abigail left the store.

The shop girl had given her a short tutorial on various options and applications. How to add contacts, like Caroline and Matt's, the camera features and something about 'facebook', 'twitter', and 'google'. Nodding so the woman would know she was listening, Abigail drifted. She'd learn the same way she'd learned Damon's, from use.

As she finally found herself outside, she walked the street further ready to finish her errands and head back to the house. Her major problem was the charging of her new phone. Her house didn't have electricity, so she'd have to make arrangements to begin updating the house. Clothes first, then library, she decided. Smiling at her new reality, she confidently walked along, knowing that she was in charge of her own destiny finally.


	42. Chapter 42

Outside Mystic Falls Public Library, February 2010

Abigail was overwhelmed by the amount of bags she'd managed to procure during her shopping. She'd found clothes and accessories with the help of another very helpful shopkeeper. Some food once she'd found a food store, along with drinks, and a library card. As she stood outside the library, surrounded by her bounty, she was caught by the light fading from the sky.

Startled from her reverie at the sunset by a large vehicle pulling in front of her. Driven by a man slightly older than anyone she had spoken to all day, she was surprised when he called out to her.

"Need a ride?" Alaric asked. He'd watched her all day, after Damon asked.

Abigail considered his offer. She couldn't read him easily, unlike the shopkeepers or librarian, but she felt that he meant her no harm. Shrugging she nodded. The car he drove, bigger than Damon's, would get her and her packages home quickly. Not being able to die by normal means didn't mean that temporarily dying wasn't painful or inconvenient. Besides, she would hate to be robbed.

"I'm Alaric Saltzman." He said, coming around to offer his hand. She took it and introduced herself. A feeling of safety rolled over her as their skin touched, reinforcing her belief in him. "Let me grab your packages and get you where you need to go."

He made quick work of the bags and helped her up into the vehicle. Ric burned with curiosity about the woman beside him. Abigail Morgan had Damon tied in knots and that made her intriguing. This was completely different from his feelings for Katherine.

"So, Abigail is it?" Alaric struggled to sound mildly interested. "Where to?" He knew that Morgan House would be their destination, but he had to pretend he didn't know. Frightening her wouldn't help Damon's cause.

"Morgan House, please." She offered with a smile that lit up her face. She was beautiful, Ric had to admit. Diminutive, but regal and completely enchanting.

They drove in silence for a few moments. Ric wanted to ask questions, but didn't want to appear too interested.

"Saltzman?" Abigail asked, repeating his introduction. "Are you the history teacher at the school?"

He smiled, she obviously used her lunch with Matt and Caroline well. "Yeah, that's me. How do you know that? Future student of Mystic Falls High?" She could pass for a high school student, and it wouldn't be the first supernatural he taught.

She laughed and he was struck by the music of it. "No, I'm past school years, I'm afraid. I met a few of your students earlier. Caroline Forbes and Matt Donavan? They welcomed me to Mystic Falls and kept me company."

Her cadence was very old fashioned, but Ric realized no one would mind. She was just that appealing and fascinating. She was so open, even with her knowledge of the darkness of the supernatural world.

"They're good kids," Ric agreed. Then asked one of his many burning questions. "Are you here to stay or visit?"

"Stay." She said simply. "I hope anyway. I'm realizing my house is going to need a great deal of updating to be truly livable." She sighed. While she wanted the safety of her home, she also wanted to get used to modern conveniences.

"Why don't you stay in one of the hotels?" Ric asked, knowing she needed more than a home base.

She contemplated his offer. It would make more sense to stay somewhere else until the house would be more livable. She needed to have her mother's grimoire, and she'd like the shoes and other things Damon had brought her. She wondered if Alaric would mind a longer trip.

Anticipating her desires, he asked her if she wanted to go to the house and pick up her luggage or things she'd like to take to a more convenient place. "I don't mind, Abigail. And it would no doubt be safer, at least until you do the electricity and plumbing. No one wants to live in a house with no lights, air, or heat and definitely without a fully functioning bathroom."

She thanked him and agreed. Animal attacks were supposed to be over, she thought, yet he inferred that there was still danger. "I heard that there were animal attacks, but Caroline said the mountain lion was caught?"

Ric stared out the windshield. Damon hadn't told her the full story of the tomb vamps. Damn it. Animal attacks. Well, he'd play along, for now.

"Apparently there were more beasts in its pack." Let her make up her own mind about what that meant. She was clearly smart, so he had no doubt he would.

Abi faintly recalled Damon talking about when he'd tried to free Katherine from beneath Fells Church. Dear God. Had Emily saved them all in her stead? Twenty-seven vampires loose on her hometown. They'd reign terror on the very place she'd called home.

He heard her slight inhale of breath. She knew. He could feel it. He wished he could reassure her, but he had to fake any knowledge of her or the other world. Not being able to comfort her sucked. Holding in an irritated groan, he finally pulled in front of her house. Before he could ask if she wanted him to accompany her inside, she let him know she'd be quick.

He nodded with an easy smile. "I'll be right here, Abigail." He shrugged off her gratitude. He realized that he would do anything to help her. She was so compelling.

Abigail ran inside, lighting a candle and heading upstairs to gather her things. She forced everything she wanted with her into a few shopping bags. Finished in a few minutes, she rushed back downstairs, blowing out her candle, and locking the door behind her. She opened the door to the vehicle and climbed inside with her bags. She thanked him again as they headed back to town.

"There's a nice hotel near the Grille. They have extended stay suites." Knowing she wouldn't understand the distinction he explained. "That way you'll have access to a kitchen. Staying there while you figure out your next move at the house would be more comfortable than a regular hotel room."

She smiled in gratitude. "That sounds perfect. Thank you so much, Alaric."

His name from her lips was mesmerizing. Driving toward the hotel, Ric wanted to learn more about her. He told himself it was to help Damon in his quest to win her love.

"What brought you to relocate to Mystic Falls?" He asked hoping he still sounded casual in his interest.

"Not much else to do with my life." She answered, staring into the darkness outside. "Why not come here, where my family began?" She felt a tear escape and quickly brushed it away. "I'm an orphan. My family's stories about this town,my ancestors, and my inheritance drew me here."

"I'm sorry," Ric offered, wanting to comfort her. "I didn't mean to bring up something upsetting."

Smiling at her companion, she shook her head. "You didn't. My emotions are just jumbled. It's been a long couple of days." She sighed, thinking about Damon. "I feel like I've woken from a terrible dream and found myself in another world. Alone and overwhelmed, silly isn't it?"

Ric could hear the pain in her voice. The urge to stop the car and pull her to him was heavy. To keep her safe and happy was all he could think about. He'd only just met her, but he was ready to lay down his life for her.

They found the hotel and he helped her inside with her bags. Helping her navigate the check in process, without making it look like he knew her secret, he finally carried her bags to the room she'd been given. Standing outside the door as he used the card to unlock it, Abigail thanked him once again. The urge to touch her became unbearable, so he did. He offered his hand and Abi took it, smiling and hoping they could be friends.

He asked for her cell phone and carefully added his contact information. Abigail smiled and told him she could take the bags from this point. Alaric nodded and said goodnight. Not wanting to leave her in this hotel, alone, but knowing that he'd have to because she willed it so. After another goodnight, he walked away, wondering how a woman he barely knew could make him want to act as her protector.

Abigail carried her bags into the room. The lightswitch had been flicked by Alaric after he opened the door, so she was bathed in more light than she was used to, but it wasn't unpleasant. She carried her food to the kitchen and was relieved to see it was stocked with pots, pans, utensils, and plates. Putting everything away in a humming icebox, she smiled. It wasn't home, exactly, but it would do for the time being.

She continued to explore and put things away where they should go. Clothes in the closet and chest of drawers, shoes under the clothes, toiletries in the luxurious bathroom. The bathtub called her so that would be first on her list of new experiences. Then she'd find out about the flat black thing on the chest of drawers, and explore her new phone.

Taking a deep breath, she took in her new reality. A new life, in a new world.


	43. Chapter 43

Damon was confused. Ric was in place to keep Abi safe until he could figure out how best to win her trust, and hopefully her love back. Ric told him Abi realized her house wasn’t the most convenient of residences. With no electricity, no running water, no modern conveniences, it made sense. Ric had helped her move into the hotel in town.

This sounded reasonable to Damon. What confused, what frustrated him, was Ric’s insistence that Abi-the woman he’d told Damon to chase, needed TIME. Time, Ric said, to come to terms with her new modern life. Time to grow accustomed to being awake and to make decisions about her life. Time without Damon.

What the hell?! He wondered why the shift from my erstwhile best friend. It had happened practically overnight. Ric no longer seemed interested in helping Damon find a path back to Abi’s side. Now his focus was on keeping her safe and becoming her confidant. 

Seriously? If he didn’t know better, he’d think Ric was falling for HIS girl. That would be ridiculous. 

Abigail sat in her room laughing as Ric, as he insisted she call him, regaled her with more travails of a high school history teacher. Her phone sat next to her on the bed as she waited to hear back from one of the many contractors she’d called for estimates. The cost of updating her house was proving more expensive than she’d expected. Even after a visit to the bank manager, a careful meeting where she learned the true value of her inheritance, she wasn’t sure it was worth it. The amount that was given thus far was more than she was comfortable with giving. And why should she pay to have the house she’d been prisoner in for over a hundred years to be updated? Ric noticed when her gaze landed on the ever silent phone.

“Lost you, again.” He sighed. “Tell me about your quest for renovations?” He was seated in the chair she used when using the desk.

She groaned, unladylike, but keeping with the times. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I hadn’t realized how incredibly expensive it would be.” She sighed, thinking how overwhelming the decision was becoming. “Really expensive, for a house that doesn’t feel-”

“Like home?” Ric finished, raising an eyebrow. “Then don’t renovate it.”

She looked at him in curiosity and shock. “But then it’ll be unlivable, unless I want to live without the normal standards of living.” That I’ve come to love and be used to having, she added in her head. “And what would I do with an unlivable house? Where would I live?”

Ric smiled, and she had to admit to herself that he was attractive, even if she only craved his friendship. “Sell it. I have it under good authority that the Mystic Falls Historical Society craves that house.” 

She bit her lip. She knew that he was telling the truth because the bank manager had mentioned it. If she sold the house, that still left the question of where she would live. The hotel was nice, but she wanted a more permanent home.

“I can help you look for another house,” he offered, seeing her pause. “There are plenty available.” Another large smile. “I’ll buy lunch.” He tempted.

Abi laughed. “I’ll look.” She agreed with a nod. “Then, I’ll make a decision.” She took the hand he offered when he’d stood from his seat, and helped her stand. “And I plan on holding you to your promise for lunch.” 

Chuckling, he waited while she grabbed her phone, shoes, and new wallet. “Your chariot awaits, Abi.” He offered his arm in a gallant gesture. Shaking her head, she linked hers through it and allowed him to lead her from her suite.

She wondered if this would be the push she needed. Abi felt like she hadn’t made any progress, not since waking. It was like she was in a holding pattern.

HOURS LATER

Lunch morphed into a class in billiards. Abi was enjoying the day. Her companion had proved warm and helpful. She’d found a few suitable houses, well within her means, and more centrally located. Being within walking distance of everything would be more welcome than she could verbalize. 

And so, lunch at the Grille of course, had led to this. Her standing with the long thin poolstick held awkwardly in her hands. Ric was pressed against her back, leading her through her first shot. She laughed as his breath tickled her neck, and more when her shot was successful. 

Ric pulled back so she could turn and hug him. Her excitement was contagious, but holding her was beyond words. Abigail Morgan was amazing. Three days into their friendship and all he could think about was making her laugh. Being in her company was fast becoming the only time of day he felt at peace.

Abi pulled away when she heard a throat clear. Turning to face the interloper, she raised an eyebrow at him. Damon Salvatore. Her living, breathing reminder of the past.

“Well, well, well.” He said, walking to join them. “What have we here? Ric,” he acknowledged her companion with a glare. “This seems cozy.”

She almost laughed out loud. Jealousy, that’s rich, she thought. Ric had moved so his body was half hiding her from Damon. She touched his arm, not noticing that Damon took note of the casual touch. She was telling him she was fine, this was fine.

“Damon,” she greeted, keeping her hand on Ric’s arm. “I thought I was clear before.” The threat was heavy in her voice, so was the pain she kept in check. He’d broken her, more times than she wanted to count.

“And I thought I was clear,” his voice full of menace, but not directed to her strangely. “Ric, why did you have your hands all over my-” he sighed and corrected himself. “On Abigail?” Abi looked between the two of them.

Confused, she had to ask. “What is this all about?” Still looking from one to the other. “Tell me.” She commanded, her voice infused with the power her mother told her about.

“He asked me to make sure you were safe,” RIc said, breaking eye contact with Damon. “He wanted me to help him-”

“Win you back,” Damon finished. “Supposedly my best friend, but I’m starting to have my doubts.” 

Abi rolled her eyes, an unladylike habit she was learning to embrace. “I cannot deal with the alpha male syndrome clogging the air, so if you’ll both excuse me.” She walked away, ignoring the both of them. 

She waved at Matt as she left the Grille, and walked back to her hotel. Honestly, she thought, letting herself into her suite. Win her back? Protect her? Men, she fumed, tossing her room key and wallet on the desk and pulling her phone from a pocket. Setting it to silent, she lay down, hoping a nap would improve her mood.

AT THE GRILLE

“Time, huh?” Damon said, eyeing Ric in a new unpleasant light. “Time to spend with you, Ric?” Time to replace me with you?”

Ric scoffed, taking a seat at the hightop table he’d shared with Abi. “She needs time to acclimate, Damon. Better with someone new, the past could serve only as a harsh reminder.”

Damon had taken the seat she’d sat in, and Ric couldn’t help but think he was a poor substitute for her. Irritation rolled in waves off of the both of them. Ric because this dick had ruined his perfect day with Abi. 

“It seems,” Damon gestured for a waitress. “That we’re not on the same page, Ric.”

They said nothing until the waitress returned with the bottle of bourbon and two tumblers. Pouring one for himself, Damon sat the bottle down, making Ric pour his own.

“We aren’t.” Ric agreed, downing his drink in one. “You want her safe, you asked me to keep her safe. That’s what I’m doing.”

Damon’s eyes widened. “Just keeping her safe, Ric?” His voice was low, annoyance mingling with menace. “It didn’t look like she was being attacked over there by the pool table.”

Ric grunted. Not confirming, nor denying Damon’s accusation.

“And what was with the return of Vampire Hunter Alaric standing between me and her?” Damon spit out. 

“I saw a threat. I protected her.” Ric said, meeting his friend’s eyes across the table.

Damon glared at the very idea. Tossing back his own drink, and barely managing to not slam the glass down. “I’M a threat? To Abigail Morgan? Are you insane?”

Ric’s eye contact remained unbroken. “Yeah, you. You are a threat to her, Damon.” He poured more into his glass. “Even you know that. Why else would you ask me to keep her safe? You could have stalked her all by yourself.”

Damon felt a flash of realization. Ric was acting almost exactly like Stefan had when he’d turned. Sitting back, he reconsidered. Actually, Stefan’s interest began earlier, hadn’t it? He remembered the letter that brought him back home. He and Stefan hadn’t been close, not since they were children, and yet he’d written to him. Urged him to come home, for HER. And when he got back, not noticing Abi once Katherine became all he could see, didn’t she complain about how difficult it was to keep Stefan compelled. At least when it came to keeping him away from HER. Hell, wasn’t it Stefan that had found her after Katherine’s first attempt in the garden. Hadn’t he carried her like the precious cargo she was, the shock flew through him even now. Stefan’s urge grew when he turned. Wasn’t that part of being a vampire? Everything is amplified, and occasionally twisted. Like how protective he’d been of Abi beforehand. Shit.

Damon groaned. “I need to find Bonnie.” Ric gave him a startled look at the turn in conversation. “And YOU need to keep your distance from Abi.” He pointed his finger at his friend. “Think about how young she looks, maybe thinking of her like a STUDENT will keep your brain and other parts in check. You are TEACHING her about her new reality, aren’t you?” He ignored Ric’s glare. “Gotta go see a witch and fix THIS.”

Now to get Bonnie on board, Damon stalked out considering his options. He ran smack into his brother outside.

“Damon, we need to talk.” Stefan urged, making Damon slow down. He was about to tell him he wasn’t interested when Stefan followed up by adding, “we know she’s awake.”

“We?” Damon asked, looking into his brother’s face.

“Yeah, we,” Elena agreed, stepping out from behind her boyfriend.

Damon rolled his eyes. Well, yippee, the gang’s all here.” He started to turn away, considering a detour to his car.

“We want to help.” Elena offered and he found himself laughing. “We do.” She sounded less certain now.

Damon glared at the two of them. “Help?” He nodded at the absurdity. “He’s the reason she was trapped in her own mind in the first place, but you? You look like the bitch that killed her-TWICE.” He bit out, then laughed darkly again. “And me? I’m the moron that tried to finish the damn job.” He nearly roared at the impotency he felt. “You can’t help, Elena. He can’t help.’ He pointed violently at his brother. “I’m not even sure I can.”

“Tell us,” Stefan pleaded. “There’s something you aren’t telling us.” He ignored his brother’s growl. “What’s the real issue, Damon?” 

“Not here.” Damon answered, reminding them all of where they stood. He also hoped he could distract them from their moronic ideas. “I’ll meet you at home, got an errand to run first.” 

Stefan shook his head. “Run it after we talk about this.” He handed Elena his keys. “I’ll ride with you.”

Of all the fucking times for his brother to grow a pair, Damon thought, rolling his eyes. “Fine.” He snapped. “Fine.” He threw up his hands and stomped to his car. “Let’s go.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that it's taken so long to update this story. I hope to work harder and keep my stories running smoother than I have been. If you're still reading, thank you for bearing with me.

Damon was silent as Stefan went with him to see Bonnie. He hated to admit it, but having his baby brother along might actually be helpful since the Bennet witch didn’t exactly like him. He couldn’t actually blame her for not trusting him, her grandmother died because of him, tangentially. Not that she liked Stefan much more. Maybe they should have brought Elena along to smooth the way, but since she was in bed with the devil, so to speak, he doubted that pathway forward would help either. 

How would he explain it to Bonnie, and then how the hell could she even begin to fix it? He had no clue how the overwhelming urge to keep her safe even happened. And why the hell wasn’t he hit the hardest by it?

When they finally pulled up outside the Bennet house, Stefan turned to him and waited for an explanation. Sighing, he gave him the upshot of what he felt certain of, but unsure of how to fix. “Do you remember how focused on Abigail you were when you transitioned?” Stefan’s eyes slitted at the memory and a tilt of his head told Damon to go on. “How about the way you could break Katherine’s compulsion when it came to Abigail? Do you remember finding her after Katherine’s first attempt, even after she told you to stay with her?” It had hurt him at the time, Katherine’s insistence that Stefan stay with her, but he’d blinked past it and left her, alone with him and for that he’d pushed away his annoyance and congratulated his good luck. A small nod meant that Stefan recalled what Damon mentioned, if vaguely. “Ric is having the same urge to protect Abi, Stefan, the same urge to risk my ire that you had even if I can’t compel his ass. That tells me there’s something more going on than just Abi’s sparkling personality and beauty. Something magical, maybe?” He gestured at the Bennet house, where he hoped the witch was in residence. “Hopefully Bonnie will be willing to listen, and help.”

While Damon and Stefan worked up the courage and a way to explain why they were coming to Bonnie for help, Abigail was still napping in her hotel room. What overtook her as she rested wasn’t a normal dream, because of course it wouldn’t be. 

She was back in the room that she’d woken up in, the curtains swaying gently in a breeze that came from nowhere, since she knew the windows were closed. Sitting on the bed, waiting, for what she wasn’t sure. 

“You look much better,” a deep voice offered from the doorway. Turning she was met with a face that was only slightly familiar. “You don’t remember me? It was a long time ago that we first met, in the garden-” And the memory of this strange man came back to her in sharp relief.

She’d been in the garden after her parents had died. Only a week or so after her terrible loss, she’d sought peace away from Lily’s concern and Damon’s need to make sure she was alright. Abigail had been seated on the same bench that one day in the near future Katherine would kill her when a stranger approached. Dressed as well as anyone of her status, he was tall, dark and unbearably handsome. He asked to sit, and she assumed he was one of Mr. Salvatore’s associates so she agreed, moving slightly to give him room past her dress skirt. He’d sat with her and spoke about loss, family, and grief. As though he knew her, and it brought her such peace. Before he’d left, he kissed her knuckles and told her he hoped they’d meet again. 

“You never told me your name,” she realized, smiling up at him, seeing that he was garbed as she was, in the current style of the time she woke up in. 

“That I didn’t.” He gestured to the space on the bed beside her and she nodded her assent. Once seated, he studied her face. “You’ve grown up,” his hand rose as though of its own accord, but he stopped himself before he could touch her face. “I apologize.” 

Abigail reached out and touched the still hovering hand, and closed the gap between the fingertips and her skin, letting him know that he was free to touch her face. “I don’t mind.” She closed her eyes as he traced the subtle changes, the sharpness that replaced the softness of youth, the way her lips had become more plush with age. Her eyes opened when his hand left her skin. 

“Soon.” The man, dark hair and eyes promised, and then he was gone like a whisper. 

Bonnie was looking at Damon like he’d lost his mind, which he was starting to feel like he had. She wouldn’t invite them inside, which made sense, but agreed to speak to them on the porch. As Damon told her about Abigail Morgan, and his suspicions, he watched a flicker cross her face before her expression returned to irritated indifference.

“And what precisely do you want from me?” Her question was sharp and probing. A witch still coming into her power.

Stefan answered for him. “We don’t know, Bonnie, but I can tell you this. What I felt when I transitioned about Abi was stronger than any type of obsession I have ever felt. The urge to be with her, near her, was almost as strong as the call of human blood. And that’s incredibly disturbing considering-”

“Your past?” She offered. Sighing she leaned against the doorframe. “And you say that Ric is showing the same protectiveness?” Damon nodded. “I think you’re fine as long as no one turns Ric into a vampire.” She started to go back inside, but Damon’s voice stopped her. 

“You flinched.” Bonnie swallowed and waited. “When I told you about Abigail, you flinched, why?” 

“I remembered that story about the real life sleeping beauty,” she was trying to be flippant, but Damon and from the way Stefan stiffened so did his brother, knew it was forced. “Not everyday that a local legend is confirmed, right?”  
“Bullshit,” Damon replied. “Don’t forget that I can HEAR your pulse quickening, Bonnie Bennet. What made you flinch, honestly?” 

Bonnie’s back went ramrod straight and she looked Damon dead in the eye from the safety of her house. “And don’t you forget, Damon Salvatore, that I’m Emily’s descendent and I can and will make you hurt.” 

“Bonnie,” Stefan’s voice came out pleading, and Damon was thankful for his brother’s ability to whine. “Please.”

Bonnie’s eyes never left Damon’s as she answered. “After Caroline brought up the legend of Morgan House, I talked to Grams, she told me to stay away from the house, that whatever or WHOMEVER was inside was meant to stay in safety until the time was right. When she died,” her eyes pinched at the memory, but she went on. “I started looking through the family histories that she kept. Emily was burned, but her book was kept safe. She mentioned Abigail, and how she wasn’t sure WHAT she was, only that her power was great and that the protection of her was paramount.” She sighed. “I don’t know what that means, or how to figure it out, and that’s the truth. Honestly.” And with that, she closed the door and left the brothers standing in stunned silence.

“What the literal-” Damon shook his head and looked at Stefan. “What are we supposed to do with that?”

Stefan’s head shake mirrored his older brother. “No clue, but let’s talk about it at the house.” More questions than answers, the Salvatore brothers returned to their home, wondering how the hell they would figure out the mystery that was Abigail Morgan.

Abigail’s dreams didn’t stop with the return of her mysterious visitor, instead they morphed to her childhood home, before her parents died. She was in her room, touching the things she’d long forgot about. Her bedspread, had it really been pale blue? The line of dolls on her windowsill looked forlorn, but that wasn’t a surprise, books had always been her preference. The shelves of books, not as high or as filled as their library, but holding her favorites. Her fingertips traced their spins, wishing that she could tote them all back to the reality she left behind. 

“There you are,” she swallowed as the voice she hadn’t heard, not even in the shadow people garden that she fought through to come back, pierced her heart. “I was wondering when you’d find me.”

Abi turned and drunk in the vision her mother presented. A taller, but not by much, version of herself. Posture perfect, hair arranged carefully, and her dress immaculate. “Mother,” her voice was so quiet she wondered if this mirage could hear her.

“Abigail,” her mother walked forward and took her hand. “You look just like me,” she sounded satisfied by that knowledge. “Tinier, perhaps, but your face-” unlike the gentleman who came before, her mother showed no hesitance at touching her face. Like him, she traced the changes that came after she’d died. “You’re beautiful.”

Abigail’s smile was small, since the compliment seemed more for her mother than herself. “I never got to say goodbye.” Seemed more appropriate an answer.

A rueful smile graced her mother’s face, far from ruining the beauty it simply gave her a new angle of attractiveness. “Yes, about that. Your father, his family were a dangerous lot.” Family? “A knife hung over us our entire life, Abigail, threatening to slice us apart. It was simply a matter of when.” She sighed, her hand squeezing Abi’s. “I wish we’d had more time to prepare you.” 

“For your deaths?” Abi sounded incredulous. As though warning would have helped. “Is there such a thing?”

Her mother’s smile tightened, still not comfortable with being questioned about her actions. “Perhaps, perhaps not.” She took a more disconcerting look at Abi’s attire. “What is this that you’re wearing? I can see your knees.” 

“Yes, well, this is what’s deemed appropriate in 2010, Mother.” Abigail refused to bend to a dead woman’s ire. “I was scandalized myself when Damon brought me the first dress.” Her mother’s eyes lit up at the mention of Damon’s name. “Not that he matters much, since-”

“Of course he matters,” her mother’s interruption startled her. “Damon Salvatore was the entire point of naming Lily and Giuseppe your guardians, Abigail.” She pulled her hand from Abi’s and started pacing. “Haven’t you read the book? Did you read the letter?” Abigail started to speak, but once again her mother kept speaking. “It’s all there, everything, who you are, what you are, and most importantly why he’s important.” When her mother’s eyes met hers again they were blazing and Abigail felt shocked by the seriousness she saw. “You must learn, and then you must study, and you have to know him. Fully, Abigail.” And then she was gone, like the man before, but this time the abruptness woke Abigail.

Gasping awake, she looked around at a rapidly darkening hotel room. What the hell? She felt like she’d run miles without water, so once she had a drink, she sat down and tried to focus on what her mother had said. The book and letter were more important than she’d taken stock of, clearly, but Damon? Why the hell was he so important?


	45. Chapter 45

A day after Abigail’s dreams, she pushed aside her mother’s warnings, thinking that first things first. She made an appointment with the bank manager, when he learned that she wanted to talk about selling her house, he called back and asked her to come in later that day instead of later in the week. 

Hammering out a deal that got the house out of her care and into the hands of the Historical Society was easy enough. She told the manager that she wanted first pick of the furnishings and linens, books and any other trinkets, but everything left behind was for the society to decide the fate. Once that was completed, she spoke with the realtor that Ric had introduced her to, and together they walked through the houses once again, finally putting an offer on one with the idea that should it be denied Abigail would try with her second choice. 

The call came in as she was back in her room with dinner from the Grille, the wooden box from her former home beside her. She finished chewing before she answered, and nearly hung right back up again, but stopped herself with a reminder of her mother.

“Damon,” she answered. Pushing away her meal for the moment and ignoring the work set her by her dead mother, she listened as he seemed to take in her staying on the line.

Letting out a sigh, Damon closed his eyes at the sound of her voice, even on the phone it was the sweetest thing he could imagine hearing. “Abigail, I-” he stopped, wanting so badly to say so much, but not knowing what he could say that would make anything better. He remembered what Ric said about grovelling. “I wanted to ask you to dinner. Tomorrow night?” 

Abigail considered his request. That gave her time to hopefully delve into the book and letter, gaining some idea what her mother meant about Damon being the reason for so much. “Alright,” she thought about Damon, from her past, and how it had been so simple then. “Is there a dress code I should consider while getting ready?” 

Damon swallowed down thoughts of Abigail wearing the dress he’d chosen and the heels he hadn’t bought. He thought of her hair down or up where he could see the tempting curve of her neck. He thought of how her mouth tasted and how soft she felt in his arms. He had to fight to control the urge to be outside her hotel room in seconds, dinner be damned, and have her and a bed in the same space so they could move past Katherine and every stupid thing he’d done to put a barrier between them. 

“I thought I’d take you to this tiny place, quiet, where we can talk.” He looked around his house and smiled. “Anything you wear,” or don’t wear, he thought in his head, “will be fine, Abi, you’re beautiful no matter what.” 

Abigail shook her head, thinking that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. “What time should I be ready?” She pulled her dinner back toward her, thinking the call would be over soon enough. 

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he heard her start to speak, but he stopped her. “Abigail, it’s still proper for a gentleman to pick up a young woman for an evening out.” Or in, he remedied. “Which room shall I knock on?” 

Abigail almost reminded him that he had the means to find that out without her, but she stopped herself. He was trying. To at least feign being a human, he was trying. She gave him her room number and picked up her fork.

“Until tomorrow night, Abigail Morgan.” And Abi felt her breath leave her, he sounded like he did so many years before. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Damon.” She clicked the ‘end’ button and sat back, her food on her lap, but her mind on Damon and how changeable he seemed. Her fork back in her hand, Abigail pulled the wooden box closer and flipped it open. Time to learn exactly what her parents kept from her.

The next morning brought happy news that helped Abigail face the day and give her a break from her reading. The realtor called to say that her offer had been accepted. The house, smaller, ready to live in and within walking distance to everything was hers. She was smiling as they arranged a time to complete the paperwork and financial parts, and she hung up thinking that perhaps some parts were coming together.

The book lay open where she’d left it the night before. The letter lay open beside it with the delicate gold circlet on top. Her family, her father’s family history was twisted and turning, but it was also dark and upsetting. To know where he began, and how it ended for him, made little sense, but the circlet did now. 

Her mother had been given it by Abigail’s grandmother, her father’s mother, who had gotten it from her mother before her, and on and on. As the new king, his new bride would wear it on her wedding day, though she was sure the word was different. She knew little to no Norse, but the words came to her almost naturally. The circlet was hers, to wear on her own wedding day, as was custom for her line. 

A line that seemed older than time itself. Her father, the eldest son, ruled their land, her mother at his side as his queen. His sisters chose far different paths, one darkness, the other marrying and walking away from the family. Or so it seemed. Her aunts wanted to be different, and yet, if the history she read was correct, more similar than not. One married a man who was clearly grasping, if what Abigail read wasn’t tainted and biased. The other remained alone, but took the sister’s first born girl as payment for help in getting her sister past a barrenness through magic. And on it went. How the aunt who married chose to follow her husband down a path that would create the very being that first tried to kill Abigail. And how her parents, staying along the path of their ancestors, the path of magic and light, had found their own way to cheat death. A path that ran through her veins. 

Damon, well she hadn’t gotten to his role in this madness. That she was some type of elemental witch, that she could cheat death at any hand, but that of a family member, was simple to understand. Any family that she still had, were unknown to her, which would be problematic, but the book promised sketches came at the end. Immortal beings change subtly, but the faces remain the same, and she would have those sketches to keep her safe. Which brought her back to Damon. 

Sighing, she pulled the open book to her and started reading once more. 

Damon was whistling and dancing around the kitchen which would be concerning enough, but then he eyed Elena and Stefan and demanded full reign of the house for the rest of the night. 

“What the hell?” Stefan asked, as he watched his brother dicing vegetables for what he knew was a family recipe. “What-”

“I have a date, and you need a place to go off and disappear to.” Damon said, popping a piece of tomato into his mouth and sighing with pleasure at the flavor. “Come back late, very late, or tomorrow might be better.” 

“Who’s the date with?” Elena asked, hopping up on a stool and watching him work. 

“Abigail Morgan,” he smiled as he diced and chopped. The pans on the stove ready for him to prepare a full dinner and he had some wine already chosen and chilling. “I thought, what better place to have our first date, officially,” he added with a shrug, “then here, in the quiet of my home.” A gesture coupled with his grin had Stefan shaking his head. “What?”

“Damon, I hate to bring the past rearing into your-” he took a breath and a look around, “preparations for what I imagine is a LONG night for Abigail, but she’s still the same woman from the 1800s.” Damon nodded, as he added spices to the pan with the fresh veggies. “You know, the 1800s when young women only met young men with a chaperone present?” 

Damon snorted. Abigail and he had been alone for most of their lives before Katherine came along. “You seem to forget, brother, that Abigail and I never fit into that mold.” He looked up with a smile. “I’m grovelling, and I can’t do that in public, now can I?” 

Elena snickered and his attention focused on her. “I’m sorry, but if Abigail is anything like normal women? She wants you to do it publicly, trust me.” 

When Abigail looked at her phone she was shocked to see she had only an hour to get ready for dinner with Damon. She marked the book with her letter, and put them both along with the circlet back in the cask they were found in and then put the whole thing in the safe she found in the closet of her room. 

She chose her dress carefully, picking the one he bought her and pairing it with the leather jacket and a pair of shoes she’d fallen in love with during her own shopping trip. They had heels that made her short legs appear longer, and after learning about YouTube, she’d found ways to fix her hair beyond the ponytail that he’d shown her. Braiding her hair over one shoulder, and then loosening the entwined hair, she felt that she looked as good as she could with the short time she’d given herself. 

His knock came at exactly seven, and picking up her small bag and phone, she opened it to find him waiting with a smile that she could swear she remembered. Damon took a sharp breath as his eyes moved from the top of her head to the heels she wore and she watched his nostrils flare. 

“You look,” Damon’s eyes met hers and she swallowed hard at how he was staring at her. “Amazing.” His smile grew and he held out his arm, shaking her head, she checked her purse for the room key then slid her arm through his. 

He drove carefully to the house, keeping conversation light, wanting to make the evening waveless. Or at least waveless until they kissed, and he really hoped they would kiss, and soon. 

“Quiet, LITTLE place, you said,” Abigail was smirking as he drove up the driveway to the boarding house. “I think our upbringing has skewed your understanding of the word, Damon.” 

He held her door for her and was still chuckling at her playfulness. “Stefan told me I should keep dinner in town or with an audience, because ‘you’re a woman from the 1800s’.” This forced a giggle from Abigail and his smile grew. 

“That Stefan, always showing how little he knows about me.” She walked carefully to the front door and bit her lip as he ushered her inside. The dark wood, the heavy furniture, was familiar even if it wasn’t. Taste and class, things that couldn’t be bought, worked together to form what was known as the Salvatore Boarding House. She followed him toward the scent of mouthwatering food, and smiled when he showed her the small table he’d lit by candles, draped in white linen, in the kitchen where the food sat simmering on the stove. “This looks lovely.”

“Wait until you taste dinner,” he offered, holding out her chair and moving to fill two plates. “I skipped the opening courses, Abigail, I thought a main course with some additions and bread, followed by dessert would be filling enough.” Did he sound uncertain or was she simply hearing things? 

“Whatever you’ve made smells amazing,” Abi replied, smiling as a steaming plate was set before her, a basket of warm bread and then Damon and his plate joined her. 

“Wine?” He pulled a bottle closer and poured a generous amount in his own glass before Abi nodded her agreement and he repeated the process with hers. “Now, dig in.” 

“Dig in?” She smiled and picked up her fork. “Sounds as though I’m going to work.” Taking a sample bite, she couldn’t hold back a moan of appreciation. Dear Lord, who knew that Damon could cook? Once she swallowed her bite she noticed that he was watching her. “This tastes wonderful,” biting her lip, she took a sip of wine and took a moment to appreciate the flavor of the wine and how it complimented the meal. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Damon smirked, and took his own sip before picking up his fork. “Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out won’t you?”


	46. Chapter 46

Dinner was surprisingly comfortable. Abigail allowed herself to fall back into the calm that had once come from Damon’s presence near her and he was trying very hard to stay charming. She took small sips from her wine glass, never getting below half a glass, because while wine was a staple in her upbringing, she wasn’t overly fond.

Dessert was a simple tart, apple and pear, with a crust so light and flaky that she couldn’t hold back an appreciative moan. Dear Lord, she thought, the flavors bursting on her tongue, how did he learn to do all this? 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Damon offered from his seat, shifting because her moan had gone straight to his pants. “I rarely cook, so having you appreciate it makes it more worthwhile.”

Abigail smiled around her fork, taking the time to chew carefully and swallow before speaking. “Thank you, then, for preparing such an absolutely wonderful meal, Damon.” 

“Anytime,” and he meant it. She could tell and he wanted her to hear that sincerity down to the toes she had hidden in those decadent fucking heels she was wearing. He watched her bite her lip and felt a lurch in his stomach. Were those butterflies? He took a mouthful of wine to fortify himself and went back to the steady stream of conversation that they’d had before she made that noise, the one he wanted to hear her make with their naked bodies touching.

“Dinner was wonderful,” Abigail reiterated, as he sat next to her on the leather couch. “When did you learn to cook?”

Damon smiled and thought back. “Not long after I left,” her smile held, so he went on. “We eat, you know that from-” Shit. Katherine rears her head again. But his eyes met Abigail’s and he saw that she hadn’t moved or flinched. “Anyway, I thought that I’d better learn to feed myself, and I did.” 

“I think you did better than that.” Abi’s smile took his breath away. She turned to see the flickering flames of the fire he’d started and he studied her. “This house, is it still set up as a boarding house?” 

Damon hummed the affirmative. “It is, but we don’t actually use it that way, of course.” 

“Of course,” Abi murmured. “Do I get a tour?” Did Damon imagine the flirtation he thought he heard in the question? “Damon?” He must have stopped moving and breathing.

“Do you want one?” She smiled and his breath caught again. She owned him, and had since they were children, but God he felt unsure. “Let’s go-” He stood and helped her to her feet, a glance down at the heels had him swallowing hard. “I love the shoes.”

“Thought you might,” she replied, and their eyes met again, and he felt thirsty. So damn thirsty that he nearly took her lips for another spin. “Well?” Damon blinked, taking a minute to remind himself of what he was supposed to be doing. Tour of the house, right.

Abigail was smiling internally and externally as Damon showed her the house. The entirety was as well designed and decorated as her first impression of the library gave her. The upstairs Stefan's room cluttered with papers, books, and journals held no interest for her. She felt Damon start to fidget, something he hadn’t done even as a child, and she understood when he led her to a door at the end of the hall.

“My room,” it was a breath, and Abi took her own as he opened the door. 

His bed was massive and central. A bath, with a clawfoot tub peeked at her from an open door. She walked inside, curious. Damon’s room hadn’t been as off limits as hers became when she moved to the Salvatore home, but she hadn’t been a frequent visitor. This room, with its dark wood and white linen, was foreign to her. The bathroom seemed as huge as the bedroom, and she itched to take a longer look. Her feet, careful on the bare wood floor with her heels barely making a sound, crossed the room seemingly of their own accord. 

The bathroom was as large as she’d thought, and the entire thing looked as inviting as his bedroom. She swallowed when she felt the warmth of his body come closer. Her eyes closed as his finger barely touched her shoulder, covered by her jacket still. Biting her lip, she felt him move closer, his heat nearly burning the length of her back as he brushed her neck with one fingertip. 

“Abigail?” She heard him swallow and her legs nearly buckled, but like he once had been and how he seemed so sure he wanted to be again, he was there to rescue her. His arm wrapped around her, under her breasts, and held her steady. “I want so badly to take my time and not rush you.” 

His voice was still so quiet that she knew he felt conflicted, as conflicted as she wasn’t. Turning she looked up at him, her hand curling around his neck and taking advantage of the extra height her heels gave her, she pulled him down to her. “Is it a rush if I’ve waited over a hundred years?” 

And then their lips met and he got to hear it again. That noise she’d made over the tart, only deeper, hungrier. His arms moved, wrapping around her and pulling her tight against him. Feeling her softness, her warmth, the pounding of her heart and the scent of her hair almost overwhelming him. Abi’s tongue was tempting his and he was taking every single thing she offered and giving it back a thousandfold. This time, even without his extra senses, even without the experience that time had afforded him, he knew that nothing would stop them. Nothing short of a natural disaster, and even then, he wasn’t sure they’d notice. 

Abigail was off her feet, lifted into Damon’s arms and carried bridal style to his bed. The jacket tossed off, the zipper of the dress he’d bought her loud as he pulled it down, mouth never leaving hers, so hungry for the taste of her that she thought they wouldn’t survive it, but she couldn’t seem to care. Her hands were tugging his shirt off, and that forced his lips from hers, but then her dress pooled at her feet and he swallowed so hard that she was certain they could hear it in town. 

“My God, Abigail Morgan, who created you?” And then, she was in his arms again, his mouth hot on hers as he lifted her onto the bed, laying her back on the pillows so he could drink in her nearly naked form. She watched, licking her lip as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, as he slid them off, as they were left on the floor with her jacket and dress and his shirt. Then he was over top of her, his hands sliding up the bared skin of her legs, his mouth touching her neck, and she thought if she died, then and there, it would all be worth this. “Tell me to stop, Abi,” his words mumbled against her skin even as he lowered his hips and let their pelvises touch. “Tell me now, because I swear-” but her hands found the back of his head and she was pulling him back to her for another kiss. 

Their mouths memorized one another, the way his tongue seemed to dance with hers, the quickness that she learned the steps. Her hands didn’t stay on his head, she wanted and needed to touch him as much as he did her, so she slid down, over his back feeling the muscles and strength of him. His were teasing her sides, her hips, before growing bolder and finally cupping her breasts. She sighed at the feeling and he rocked his hips, earning a moan and whimper of need from her mouth. 

“Please,” she whispered, breaking their kiss to beg for what she didn’t know. She only knew that she needed more. So much more. 

Damon’s mouth, free of hers, worked down her body, he wanted everything. Every single decadent thing he’d ever had with another lover, he wanted with Abigail Morgan. And he planned, come Hell or highwater, to have it. Tonight.

Shifting lower, his mouth tasting every inch of her bare skin, paying careful attention to those breasts that had tempted him for decades of dreams, learning every spot that caused her to gasp, to beg, to plead with him for more. When he kissed her, there over her panties, she arched up into his touch and he smiled. She did want him, as badly as he wanted her. Nudging her mound, another kiss over the flimsy fabric, and she offered his name as a whimper. He wanted to hear it on her lips forever, and from this moment on, that was his goal.

The panties were gone, and then, his mouth touched her folds, and she cried out. Her fingers slid through his hair and he smiled, knowing that she was his, and he planned on showing her over and over how much he adored her.

Abigail felt like she couldn’t catch her breath as he tasted her THERE. Oh my God, she thought, as his tongue slipped inside of her and her hips lifted off the bed. His hands held her down, as he savored her, causing her lips to release his name over and over. The only word she seemed capable of forming. 

And then Damon’s face was in front of hers again, his hand lifting her leg, his underwear gone and he was inside of her. Her nails bit into his shoulders as he let her take a moment to grow accustomed to the fullness, her sigh as she rolled her hips gave him the confidence to move. The leg he held, he wrapped around his hip, giving him the angle to press deeper and she moaned, biting her lip. 

“Look at me, Abi,” her eyes opened, meeting his. “That’s right, sweetheart, let me see your eyes.” His hips moved and her mouth dropped open. “How does that feel, Abigail?” She whimpered, swallowing as he rolled again. “I have waited so long for this, so long.” 

Damon could feel her inner walls clenching around him and he fought against his urge to take her, hard and fast, the way he yearned to. It was her first time. His Abigail’s first lovemaking, and he wouldn’t- but then she arched her back and rocked against him and he lost the fight. Their lips met again, biting into one other’s mouths as he let go. Her fingernails had moved from tearing at his shoulders to clutching his head and he growled as she rolled him onto his back. 

Abigail was a natural at so many things, but this, he thought as he sat up so they were still pressed together while she rode him was the one trait he was most appreciative about. Her braid was tossed behind her back as her head fell back in abandon, giving his mouth and tongue free reign on her throat. 

He knew his face had changed, it always did when he let go, but she didn’t seem to care when her hands cupped his cheeks and their eyes met again. “Taste me?” She begged, and he forgot what had happened to Katherine when she tried it, he forgot that she was the woman he adored, he needed to taste her blood and as his teeth sharpened, as his lips met her pulse, all he could think about was how sweet she was and would be. His teeth punctured her skin, and she rocked against him harder as the first drops met his tongue, and far from the vileness that Katherine experienced, all he could taste was heaven, and all she could feel was completion.


End file.
